40 days and 40 nights

This spring has been grim. The grey skies have persisted for weeks and the constant rain makes me think of ark building. I should not grumble. In many parts of the country people are struggling with sand bags and ruin. The garden has no complaints about the rain. Most of the plants are at the pointy stage and are just snouts sticking out of the ground. The forsythia, which Marie at 66 square feet calls "spring barf", is blooming furiously even though I hacked it viciously last year. What a survivor.