Maybe not. We're scheduled for wind gusts of between 30 and 50 mph by afternoon and I don't think I could handle being sand-blasted this early in the year. We'll see. The sky is a deep blue but the sea grass is bent almost horizontal back in the marshes.
I've been singing (or humming) this song since yesterday's walk.
I keep wishing I were somewhere else,
Walking down a strange new street.
Hearing words that I have never heard
From a man I've yet to meet.
I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams,
I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing.
I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin on the wing.
But I feel so gay,
In a melancholy way,
That it might as well be spring,
It might as well be spring.
Walking down a strange new street.
Hearing words that I have never heard
From a man I've yet to meet.
I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams,
I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing.
I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin on the wing.
But I feel so gay,
In a melancholy way,
That it might as well be spring,
It might as well be spring.
A big sigh and thank you to Mr. Rodgers and Mr. Hammerstein. Song is from the 1945 film, State Fair.
More later.
*
So now, who is reminding whom just how old he is!? I can sing this one too.
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