Still, it was wet enough to keep Portia from going outside for more than a few minutes. She doesn't like rainy days, and insists on extra lap time as compensation. My hands consequently smell of cat, and I have to keep washing them. In a couple of days it will warm up again, and the cat will go out. I'll go out, too, and pull foxtails out of the ground. Then my hands will smell of weeds. They smell a bit better than cat. They don't purr, though.
Oh, I heard swans early this morning, flying north. It's definitely spring.