The storms have moved on and the world is green, green, green. Paperwhites are in full bloom, and, in the most sunny patches, the daffodils are out. There are enough oversized puddles in which to stare and fixate on one’s beauty until eternity.
Pink blossoms on a neighbor’s magnolia tree are about to burst open and the magenta blooms from our camellia trees rain on the terrace when the wind blows.
January in the Bay Area reminds me of April in New York.
Each day brings more daylight, and at night, I’ll be checking the skies until my birthday in hopes of sighting the green comet, last viewed by Neanderthals.
Speaking of Neanderthals, I didn’t appreciate 23andme© reporting that I have more Neanderthal in my DNA than 50% of humans (that they know of). At least among my distant relatives on the site, another Harrigan had even a higher percentage than me. Or is this a good thing, should I be celebrating my distance from the modern idiocy of so may homo sapiens?