My own personal groundhog

Spring is a comin’…  The Girl Scouts are marshaling their pig-tailed, freckled forces for an assault on my waistline and dental health.   I don’t need to check on the ground hog’s shadow.  Spring for me comes with the first box of Somoas every year.  In case I hadn’t noticed the change outside from confines of my sugar-coma, the new grass is starting to sprout in our yard and a local nursery is selling seeds and bare-root plants.  I have spied a number of cyclists, clad head to toe in isolated spandex, on the bike paths and in the city.  I cannot wait for the warmer weather, sunny days, cycling to work, trail runs on something other than mud, and new sprouts in our garden.