Signs of spring popping up everywhere...time for a bath!

Clean (kind of) and more than a little wary.

I knew it was coming. For a week, I'd been avoiding going outside whenever Mom was around. What did she think, that I couldn't see the towel lurking outside the door? Smell the shampoo next to same? Not understand the word BATH, which she did not even bother to spell out?

To fully prepare, I hid in a series of closets, mooning over my fate. I plopped in the deepest dirt hole, reveling in being completely dirty.

Eventually, she caught me. Rather, my horse-and-dog-whispering sister, did so. I went to another place in my mind while she sloughed off that winter sheen (enhanced by some fervent rolling in a particularly skunky spot during my Wellesley College walk). I was sorry to see it go. Sorry to see eau of skunk replaced by aloe and oatmeal--who thought up that combo? Sorry to suffer through a vigorous toweling. Sorry enough to have to retreat to my sister's bed to recover from the trauma.

Spring does have an upside. My favorite dirt hole gets full sun. I can continue to rearrange Mom's hydrangeas. The chipmunks are ripe for chasing. My next bath will be, say, six months or so away. It's all good.