A patch of sunlight illuminates a fuzzy blue blanket, providing a warm spot in which my cat now naps luxuriantly. The blanket is as blue as the freshly laundered sky, and as fluffy as the white clouds floating there. The pines thrust into light, delving roots tapping damp earth, drawing new moisture which aspires to their swaying topmost needles, as though to return to that breezy realm from which it recently descended. The sunlight reveals that the mulberry tree has developed the tiny buds which will soon bring forth spring's tiny translucent leaves which will soak up the light and convert it to summer's dense canopy. For now, the tangle of thin twigs and branches allow most of that light to pass and fall on the camellias that kindle in the welcome glow. The air remains crisp, but is scented with new growth and resonates with bird songs. There are fleet crows, too, flashing past and emitting exuberant caws. One lands atop a pine and sways there, the shining black tip of a metronome slowly measuring the serene passage of afternoon.