It's the first of May. We've been here one year and three months today. I meant to write when the daffodils came out. I meant to write when the wisteria was in bloom and winding through the thickets of trees across whole village blocks and covering acres of woodland. I meant to write when white dogwood blossoms layered the forest. I meant to write when the ubiquitous azalea was at its peak. Now the snakes are out again basking in the sun, and here I am. That'll tell you something about me!