Rites of Spring.

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Its’ busyness, busyness, busyness that is so full of sunshine and rain and counting down the final weeks of school.

But then there is the fun of a full life that doesn’t feel like busyness.

Foraging around in the damp, still chilly, early afternoon to collect an entire drainer full of dandelion leaves for spring salad.

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Making some fantastic No Knead Skillet bread for the first time. It was tasty even though I foolishly substituted plain old table salt for the fancy kosher salt that was meant to be sprinkled on top. Story of a plebe.

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Dying Easter Eggs with my one and only little brother. He waited quite patiently till the very end to dye his special egg, which spent time soaking in each and every color and was the grandest experiment.

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Pretty eggs. I’ve loved doing this for truly as long as I can remember.

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The first canoe trip of the year!
Yes, it is a little scary transporting it on that car, but more adventure for everyone.
We were a nervous and twitchy when we first got on the water. Coming off of a long, cold Winter and our brains calling up memories of last fall when our final canoe trip was fraught with disaster and our first, second and third capsizes ever.

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These weeks have been bubbling over. Fresh flowers, fresh happiness, fresh plans to appease the annual Spring rush of fresh restlessness…
Once again, the beginning of each new Season completely convinces me its my absolute favorite. So for now, hooray Spring! I love you with all my heart!

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“You can’t stop this love”

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Where else could I possibly have been on a chilly Saturday evening?

In the upstairs of an old antique shop in Mutual, OH we gathered on a motley collection of chairs and benches to listen as Daniel Dye and the Miller Road Band filled that room to the creaking rafters with their playing.

I think it was the rawness that made it wonderful, the fact that the cracking plaster and weather worn window panes weren’t there for a trendy vintage look, but because the building has seen a hundred of these winters. It was the sincerity of the people on stage, bundled in their hats and sweaters, who play because they love the music and the stories of these songs.

Anyone could have come to the show and felt like family. A bowl of hot food and a cup of coffee from downstairs helped with that. Taking a seat on one of the benches along the wall surrounded by the smell of kerosene heaters doing their best to keep the chill at bay could only have added to the feeling. The easy, familiar interaction between the band and their audience would have topped it off. Until, at the end of it all, circled around the last heater, under the gritty glow of bare bulbs strung across the stage, you felt the fellowship and joy of honest artistry and story telling among friends.