Mother Nature's Mommy

Isn't my mommy the bestest gardener ever? (Oh yeah -- it's warmer in Georgia than it is in Illinois.)

Spring Hearkens

Mother nature is teasing us here in Chicago. The weather has been truly beautiful the past few days. I think heaven is 55 degrees at the end of a long, cold winter.

On Friday, I went to Millenium Park before my contact fitting and sat on a bench to have my lunch from White Hen. It was marvelous. Sun beating down. People sitting around, nervously taking their coats off -- it's like we don't believe we can be warm outside without a big coat. On Saturday, St Patrick's day revelers were out in full force. The day was warm, and the pubs and bars were pulling out their summer patio seating to accomodate the crowds that were forming by...noon. (For those of you who are wondering why everyone was out for St. Patrick's day when it's not until Friday, I should note that Chicago is home to the second largest group of Irish outside of Ireland. St. Patrick's Day is celebrated here for two weeks.) Sunday was likewise warm and lovely, though I spent the day inside at work. I don't think I've ever noticed before that Kaplan has no windows!

Of course, lest anyone envy our great weather -- this morning's 60 degrees with sunny skies and a breeze had, by noon, turned to 35 degrees with clouds and a mean wind. It was good while it lasted, though, and I'm certainly looking forward to spring now. I just hope the bulbs in the park can weather the lingering winter weather.

We'll miss you, Pop...

Wes's paternal grandfather, Pop, died on Saturday. Pop was a World War II veteran, a former employee of White Way signs in Chicago, an inventor of sorts, and a great storyteller. He was particularly proud of his grandchildren and often confused his three grown children with his young grandchildren. He was the funniest man I've ever met, and I count myself lucky to have known him and have heard his stories -- often the same ones -- over the past six years. Pop exuded warmth, and I am only sorry he will not be able to meet his great-grandchildren in coming years -- and they him.