Rites Of Spring

If you had been inside looking outside today, you would think that it was 75 or 80 degrees today. You would also be dead wrong. Try freezing this morning, and getting up to maybe 45 degrees today with variable 10 to 20 mph winds.

In other words, a great day to practice softball! Hopefully I won't be too sore tomorrow. Monday night is our first two games, at 6pm and 7pm, so come on out and support us. Uh, bring a blanket.

This evening was a choir and orchestra rehearsal for tomorrow's Easter services. Getting to set mics and mix the audio is one of my favorite things to do, and having a digital mixing console to do it on is totally amazing. I am still so grateful to have a tool like that to not only make what I do that much more fun, but also to make the mixes that much better.

My neice went and visited the easter bunny. It looks like she isn't scared at all. Diana is 15 months and some change, and is one of the happiest babies that I have ever been around. I can admit that I am not around small kids much, but hey, I'm her uncle, I have a right to be biased.

Bunny, bunny, bunny, you're so funny with your twitching nose (wiggle nose)

Bunny, bunny, bunny, you're so funny from your head (point to head) to your toes (bend over and touch toes)

Bunny, bunny, bunny your ears are funny (make bunny ears with hands on top of head) they're too big for you...

Bunny, bunny, bunny, you're so funny...
everyone loves you (kids hug themselves)


Notable birthdays for April 7th are Billie Holiday, James Garner, Wayne Rogers, Francis Ford Coppola, Stan Winston, Jackie Chan, James "Buster" Douglas, Russell Crowe, Bill Bellamy, Ronde Barber, Tiki Barber, and William Wordsworth.

Lines Written in Early Spring - William Wordsworth - 1798

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it griev'd my heart to think
What man has made of man.
Through primrose-tufts, in that sweet bower,
The periwinkle trail'd its wreathes;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopp'd and play'd:
Their thoughts I cannot measure,
But the least motion which they made,
It seem'd a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
If I these thoughts may not prevent,
If such be of my creed the plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

Reprinted Without Permission