If you get up early enough, and take a turn around the garden, you will be delighted to find that overnight the fairies have sprinkled diamonds on your plants. Whether it be from the morning dew or from a heavy overnight rain, with the sun catching it just right it looks for all the world that you have your own diamond mine. Were they real diamonds of course I would be rich and could retire and simply take photographs full time, but even so, even though the diamonds are just water and short-lived once the sun comes up to dry them away, they are the most perfect jewels of the landscape, in which you can see the reflections of the sun and sky, and perfect prisms of light, which bounce rainbows into the air. I find that no matter how many photographs I take of them, I always feel compelled to take just one more, just one more shot of that perfect light, the early morning sunshine, creating diamonds in the garden. After all, as we all know, diamonds are a girls best friend.

Winter of course is cold, grey and miserable, with only weak, unpenetrating sun to warm our skin. Fall is a time of death, a time of sleep, a time of saying goodbye, not only to our plants but to our critters Summer is a time of oppressive heat, of shading ourselves, of sweating, of drinking gallons of water to keep hydrated. But Spring, ah the glories of Spring, when the suns are just warm enough to warm and toast our skin but not yet hot enough to send us scurrying inside, when a gentle rumble emits from the ground as the perennials that have lain silent and dark in the ground all winter are suddenly awakened by the warmth of the sun. When a turn around the garden with a glass of wine in the evenings is a nightly revelation, as a new sprout is seen pushing up through the mulch. My banana tree came back, only today I saw its first sprout pushing through the woodchips and I rejoiced. The new roses I planted recently have all sent out shoots and soon there will be rose blooms galore in the new rose bed. And the Don Juan, an ancient rose that I planted many moons ago, on a long since destroyed trellis, is yet again sending up new green shoots from its dead looking main branch that many years ago decided to take off up the trees and remain like Howard Hughes, heard of but never seen, and soon there will be blooms in the trees that only the birds can see. The hosta are busting out of the ground like small missiles, making one wonder how such a huge plant can live in such a small rhizome over the winter, and the Elephant ears only repeat that point. Only today I saw that the peony had broken ground, Ms. Sarah Bernhardt will soon be sending out buds that the ants will be digging into to get the hidden nectar and the huge pom pom like blooms will fragrance the air for weeks. Within short order my asiatic and oriental lilies will burst forth with blooms that the butterflies and bees will literally get drunk on, staggering around with mass amounts of orange pollen on their wings. Is there any better affirmation of life than Spring? If only it could last all year.

This evening, in celebration of a three-day weekend, I sat out on my patio, in my gazebo and drank a glass of wine while listening to the birds. The Mocking Bird sat, as he usually does, on the power lines which lead from the street to the unused light in my backyard. From his vantage point there he can sing to the world, and declare, to all those who are interested, that this is his domain. The wonderful thing about the Mockingbird's song is that it is unlike any other bird's song. Whereas other birds will have a standard repertoire, from the Wren's shrill call announcing its presence, to the lilting call of the White Throated Sparrow, their songs are always the same. Not so the Mocking Bird, hence his name. No, the Mocking Bird sings his song, he sings other birds songs, he sings the sounds of telephones ringing, he sings the sounds of a song he heard on the radio, he sings as a Mocking Bird, he sings as a Bluebird, he sings as a Wren, he sings as a Blackbird, he sings such a joyous combination of every other bird song that you hear that his song is truly a symphony. I could truly sit and listen to him for hours, as he sits there on the power line and just sings for all he is worth. It is such a joyous sound, it is a pure celebration of life, Spring is upon us, and he has weathered yet another winter, and in celebration of such he sits on the power lines and sings "I managed to survive the winter" "the warm weather is here again" "soon there will be ample food" "no more having to eat damn sunflower seeds off that human's feeder I can eat MEAT" "I need me a WOMAN NOW". Whatever is going on in my world, just a moment sat out there listening to the Mockingbird sing is enough to lift my soul to its highest of heights. Everything is right with the world, the Mocking Bird is welcoming Spring.

"Dove Calming Nights Body Wash" So let me get this straight. The "body wash" and "soap" industries have convinced us that we need to shower every morning (despite the fact that medical research has proven that it is really bad for us to do so), and now they are promoting an evening shower? So you can sleep? Stop right here and think people. In the past 200 years how many cases of allergies were reported? Few, in fact very few. In the most recent 200 years how many cases of allergies have been reported? Millions. Why? Because an obsessive compulsion with bathing and showering has completely stripped the human body of all of its natural defenses... which is why there are so many allergies reported today. A child raised in a completely disinfected environment who is required to bathe every day has absolutely no, none natural defenses against alergins..none. Does anyone realize what these companies are doing to us? Everyone derides Europeans for not showering every day and yet the instance of allergies and disease in Europe is much less than it is in the US. Stop, think, these drug and soap companies are slowly killing you. Their entire agenda is to make you completely dependent on them, do not allow them to do it.

Do not decide to listen to a CD of common bird songs in your area when it is pouring with rain outside and therefore every cat you possess (ooops I'm sorry every cat that chooses to reside with you because it suits said cat at the moment), is in the house and sleeping on every horizontal surface BECAUSE when it comes to a one on one between cat teeth and claws and computer speakers, guess who wins?