Spring has sprung.

The last few days have been glorious. It seems like more people live in the neighborhood, more people walk the streets, everything is just more than it was. And this morning, Fort Greene Park was in full swing. Everything felt like it had finally come alive and was exulting in that fact. Dogs were rushing at each other with unusual joy. People were wearing sunglasses and smiles and bright colors and flower-printed patterns. Bushes actually had leaves on them--this is major.

I'll say this for you, New York: you sure know how to make people appreciate some good warm sunshine. All you have to do is deprive them of it and bundle them up over half the year, and boy are they grateful when even 50 degrees rolls around again. You get them up to the 60s, and they are ready to buy up all your stock. You get them to the mid-70s and they are half-naked in a park, a sort of glazed, hedonistic look in their eye, open and loose to anything.

Yes, it's all been glorious... except that Dave and I have been laid low by some kind of awful head cold/allergy combination. He's actually been sick for over a week, while I've just had it four days now. That said, that first day was really bad: I was running a temperature (~102 degrees) and had gone deliriously dramatic, demanding to know when I'd have brain damage from my brain getting cooked. My throat was sore, it hurt to swallow, my sinuses ached so strong it felt like my head was a bubble and all I could do was look forward to the pop. And boy did I whine and moan and make little whimpering noises. Just ask poor Dave, who, while sick himself, had to bow to my clearly more advanced dramatic portrayal of Ailing Maiden, Both Fetching and Fair. I mean, really, it is a pretty spectacular performance. And heartfelt. But there the poor man was, making clucking noises and fetching me tea and making a whole pot of chicken soup to make me feel better. [Note to self: Be nicer to him next time he's sick. For example, don't whack him for snoring and make him some soup instead of teasing him for his whimpers.]

So , anyway. Allow me to link to something a little more upbeat and springy than my current self: this ridiculous edible Easter art project.

Now, it's a little too advanced Martha for me but maybe some of you--especially some of you with kiddos--might wanna give it a shot. The picture was enough to do the trick for me. You know, as I lay pale and weak, gasping for breath, on my deathbed in the pure spring morning light.