Spring arrives this Sunday. I have this visual of winter packing its duffle bag while spring is unpacking its flowered tote. Spring, being experienced in the passing of the baton, will have packed a few sweaters and maybe a pair of bright yellow galoshes.

According to the weatherman, parts of the state will get snow on Sunday. I think it is just so wrong no matter how you look at it. If I were in charge, I’d make a law which prohibits snow once winter has skulked away. Luckily, we here on the cape will get mostly rain.

The sky is ominous in some spots right now. The weatherman has predicted afternoon showers. Gracie has her well dog visit to the vets this afternoon, and we’ll also go to the dump. That’s the spoonful of sugar.

St. Patrick’s Day was wonderful. Dinner was perfect. Everything was cooked just right. The meat was tender and delicious as were the vegetables. I love cabbage, but I don’t understand why. Its strange smell when it’s cooking seems to hang around far too long. I’m guessing one of the reasons I like it is I was an adult before I tried it for the first time so I brought no childhood food nightmares with me to the tasting.

When I was a kid, there were certain foods I hated. Beans, as you know, is one of them. Peaches have fur I can’t get passed though even if I could, I don’t like the taste. Over time I do keep trying the foods I wouldn’t eat. I came to love turnip. As for beans, no matter how many times I try beans of different varieties I still don’t like them. The only bean I’ll tolerate, actually the only bean I like, is green beans in that wonderful casserole which has been around for millennia. I grew into liking carrots by themselves instead of eating them mashed and mingled with potatoes the way my mother served them to us. Actually duped, not served, is the better verb here. My mother was being very clever and quite sly. It took a while before I realized potatoes didn’t turn orangey when cooked.