Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Last evening (this morning, really), ol’ Robbo had a dream in which he was peeling a cantaloup on the back porch of Port Swiller Manor.  (I don’t know why.  It had skin like layers of an onion, with all kinds of elaborate patterns.)  At some point, I accidentally dropped the peeler over the rail, so I scurried down the stairs to fetch it.

At the bottom of the stairs, I suddenly found myself in the midst of a garden.  It was green and lush and all the plants were loaded down heavily with flower buds.  “Wow,” I thought, “Spring came and I didn’t even notice it!”

And then, as they say, I woke up.

Sigh.  More snow and freezing rain this morning.

The good news is that we actually are entering that transitional period in which the weather in these parts turns psychotic.  (March doesn’t come in like a lion, it comes in like Norman Bates.)  The high’s supposed to hit 60 mid week before dropping back down into the mid 30’s by next weekend.

It’s been such a cold winter ’round here that I am growing increasingly dubious about whether a lot of perennials I put in last spring made it through.  I’ll be especially crabby if my so-called cold-tolerant jasmine perished.

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