An unexpectedly beguiling, bewitching, and entrancing day today.  Virtually a float through a living fairy tale, with cameo appearances by people, places, and things apparently on break from Mother Goose, Eden, or possibly the Smithsonian Institution.  You know - that place where true American treasures are kept.
     And to think I almost missed it by getting stuck up a birth canal without a paddle....

     To set the scene:  
     A week ago we were forecast to get 4-6" of snow and freezing rain.
     Today we had sunny skies, Disneyesque birds, and temperatures in the 70s.
     And beautiful flowers in bloom.
     Heady stuff indeed for an old Nature buff like myself.  I mean, I know most of Her statistics by heart (Most Days in a Year, Most Children Born to One Ejaculation, Most Precious Shooting Star).  And I own many of Her most desirable collectibles (including mass, heart, and the ability to fantasize).  
     It's those beautiful flowers that mean the most to me tonight, however.
     And one beautiful flower in particular.

     Last fall I planted crocus bulbs after they had jumped into my hands and demanded my full attention.
     When the last of our snow had melted earlier this week, their first hopeful, green, unsuppressible tips were revealed.
     Today they actually bloomed.
     Poff!
     Happy puffs of delicate powder blue where before there was a wintry, wind-swept emptiness.
     I went inside to get my camera in a misguided attempt to imperfectly capture a moment that can really only be fleetingly lived.
     That's when I noticed I had inadvertently taken the moment with me.
     That's when I became aware I had a crocus actively blooming in my left ear.

     I don't recall planting a crocus bulb in my left ear last fall, but I guess I must have.  I'm a somewhat sloppy gardener, I must confess, one often hit by a bad case of Happy Feet as I dig into the soil and disturb only creatures that can't easily kill me.  It's not inconceivable that during a late season, mum-inspired dervish, I accidentally ended up with a crocus bulb in my ear.  
     Then again, I hear that they multiply and spread all by themselves, little pranksters that they are.  
     Or at least I used to hear that before my ear became clogged today with radiant beauty.  
     In any case, the simple fact is that I discovered this miraculous herald of a new spring in my ear today, and it remains there tonight.  Its petals folded and its leaves asleep now in the dark, but there all the same.
     My own personal, magical, and marvelous reminder of Nature's sly weakness for men whose rock-strewn heads still harbor enough hidden soil to power a flowery rebirth.

     Mmmmm.  
     There will be a brief pause now while I enjoy the oddly refreshing sensation of roots growing deeper into my freshly turned cortex....

     I'm not sure what I would have done today had winter still been here needing 'round the clock care.  
     What I actually did do was bring my firefly suit out of the back of my closet, dust it off, and try it on.
     It just seemed like the thing for a man with a crocus sticking out of his ear to do.
     Thank goodness my suit still fit!
     YAY!

     For those of you who don't live in Ohio even a little bit, fireflies are those insects which our state government hired many years ago to enhance and enchant our summer evenings lest everyone flee to Vegas.  It's not hard work - in fact, last year's schedule ran just from dusk to dawn June 3 to September 8, leaving almost 9 full months off for sleep and root sucking - but the quality of life here in the Midwest simply would not be the same without 'em.
     Which is why I applied back in my youth to be a permanent firefly substitute.
     Much to my surprise, I was actually hired for the position - sight unseen.
     (And to those of you who think I was hired because I was a sight unseen, all I can say is "What is someone as perceptive as you doing reading my journal?")
     Bottom line: Whenever a born firefly can't make a back yard hovering gig because of illness, prior commitment, or an unfortunate encounter with a glass jar toting little kid, I'm certified available to step in instead.
     And although I know it's another 12 weeks before the first call of the season can possibly come in, I like to be ready well in advance.
     I mean, you think you've been in a few embarrassing situations - just try charming people having a barbecue with your antennas entangled, one leg missing, and a hopelessly askew flasher sometime.  
     
     Which reminds me - I better go to bed.  Gotta get up early tomorrow and go to the hospital to see if anything can be done to enhance the glow of my pulsating abdomen.
     Better go set my tape recorder by the door right now, just in case I have trouble hearing my doctor's recommendations, what with having a crocus in my ear and all...