March is frolicking out like a lamb. We have mid-80s sunshine and mild breezes. It was so lovely at noon, we couldn’t stay inside to have our fast-food salad. We headed to the beautiful Flint River and soaked in spring from the banks. Experienced an unexpected bit of togetherness as well. Our sack contained two salads, two packages of dressing, but only one fork. So we took turns. The joys of married life.
The pink azaleas have bid farewell; the white ones are still lovely. The dogwoods snow showers of blossoms onto to greening lawns. Most lovely this week is the elegant Carolina Silver Bell.

Bainbridge, Georgia is like little towns (we’re about 10,000 people—neither growing nor shrinking) all across the South—all across America, but like every one of those other little towns we have our special ways and special moments.
This happy (almost) spring weekend we’re enjoying two of those.
For the first, we look back and thank our city’s leaders of thirty, forty, maybe fifty years ago. Someone may know, but no one seems sure. The city began to give away dogwood trees every spring. Not big trees, not even saplings, switches really. The kind you could probably buy four for a dollar. But these trees were free. They went home with school children, the firemen handed the out down at the station, or folks dropped by city hall. And they planted them, they planted them all over town, year after year. They watered them, they fertilized them, and the dogwoods grew, then grew some more. Today, every spring, from the middle of March until about the first of April, the town floats in a snowy mist; the blossoms cover the tiny leaves, they seem suspended, they take our breath away.
When we recover, we head downtown for our other special moment—Artsfest—when every year (this is the nineteenth) we celebrate the art and culture of one particular United State and art and culture in general. This is for the community, especially for our children. More about that tomorrow after the final festival in the square amid the azaleas and, yes, dogwoods.
Meanwhile, enjoy a wisteria blossom in my back garden. They tell us wisteria is invasive here; that we should rip it out. Every year we think we will, and then it blooms!

The Ides of March

One should beware the Ides of March in South Georgia. Their beauty is almost beyond bearing. The azaleas are in full flower—especially the old-fashioned, bright pink Formosas. These at my house are over 70-years-old and get more and more vibrant.

Hope I learn from them!

I’ve been so busy with March, I have neglected the blog. But I’ll be back. I hope tomorrow with dogwood pictures—they float.

And good, good news! Bob learned this morning that he passed all those pesky tests. But no champaign this time. Once is enough!

Celebration

Celebration! March 2 was a great day around our place.

One of those back-of-the-mind, never-going-to-happen dreams has lurked in the back of Bob’s head since he was the only Merit Scholar in the 1956 Golden Sandie graduating class in Amarillo, Texas.
“Sure would be fun to be a scholar!” Life, of course, brought other interesting, fun and fulfilling (and some not fulfilling and not fun) outcomes.
Now that back-of-the-mind dream is coming true. Yesterday he finished his comprehensive examination in history at Florida State University. He has orals to go and the dissertation—but those seem minor.
He won’t get the test results for a while, but today—we don’t care. They’re done.
Last night, Bob celebrated with a little champaign and caviar.