Just as the crisp bright fall days make me think of marching band, these spring rainy days still make me think of the last few rehearsals for high school musicals. And somehow the rainy days are always linked in my mind to the inevitable angst over The Boy, whoever The Boy happened to be in a given year. He was always the wrong one, that's for sure.
The forsythia is in bloom, and the daffodils are up. I haven't seen many tulips yet this year, although there was a gorgeous display in Whole Foods last week. I should go buy some for myself. I do love tulips. I like the daffodils as well, of course, but I got accustomed to seeing them everywhere while I was at Drew. The tulips are rarer.
I remember in elementary school, I used to bring bouquets of daffodils and tulips to my teachers from my mother's garden. In the fall, I'd bring chrysanthemums. I got teased one year, not because of the flowers but because of my accent. I pronounce vase to rhyme with base. My teacher and some of my classmates felt it should rhyme with Oz. Given that I never fully acquired the local accent, I'm still a little mystified why they chose that particular word to pick on.