Spring is in the Air - Random Thoughts

We're surprised that it's cool outside, often neglecting a jacket as we head to the gym in the early morning hours.  Once the sun has been up for a while, we can sit outside and read; it will take many more degrees before swimming is plausible.  There's really no excuse - I ought to be walking outside.
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The roses are pruned back to leaf-less-ness, the canes nicely shaped into an outward-facing bush.  Both Katie at Rillito Nursery and Dr. Google agree that it's hard to cut too much.  Apparently, roses are quite hardy. 
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While pruning, my garden guy and I discussed that orange faced menace (his words) and impeachment.  While the details escaped him, the major facts were at his fingertips.  No amount of Presidential obfuscation clouded his conclusion that the guy's a crook, has been his whole business career, this is no different. 

It was the clearest description of this transactional presidency as I'd heard in a while.
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My rosemary bushes, all 12 or so of them, are, after 13-plus years, finally growing together into a thick hedge.  TBG's desire for an English Garden must be satisfied in small doses; the desert doesn't lend itself naturally to such things.

I figure that by the time FlapJilly graduates from high school the whole thing will be worth photographing for you.
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TBG's watching college basketball on tv.  The sounds feel inappropriate.  Those male voices, those squeaky shoes, the horns and the cheers and the back to the studio's are imprinted on my psyche as happening with a snowy, cold, bleak vista outside my windows.

While there's a little bit of snow on the mountains, I'm watching the purple lantana come into bloom, after lying dormant all winter long.  My ears are saying winter; my eyes are refuting the claim.
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I haven't been keeping track of my books in the sidebar (no one mentioned missing it, so I figured no one cared), but I have one to recommend: The Dutch House, by Ann Patchett. 

It's lyrical, lovely, interwoven but not too confusing, and feels very, very real.... down to the perfect description of sitting in a parked car, with the windows rolled down, on a muggy, summer night.  It's a much happier read than a plot description might lead you to believe.