We all get hungry, even on the moon.

There I was again, shoving a scone in my face, a piroshky melting in my mouth, wondering if I'd washed my hands after petting those goats.  All while gazing longingly at the elephant ears strolling past carried by eager hands who at that point would probably do anything their owner's mouths asked, including reaching into their wallets to purchase more fat and sugar-filled delectable morsels of fair food.

Ah, the Fair - late summer days, warm summer nights, more good food than you can shake a krusty pup stick at - but wait, this wasn't summer, it was spring, it was almost 80, and there were more people walking around in Puyallup with smiles on their faces than there were after it was announced that the Beach Boys were no longer touring the fair circuit.

As I munched the last of my piroshki the light beaming from behind these floating bubbles caught my attention and I felt like I was on another planet.  That is until another waft of cinnamon and sugar filled the air and I was off in search of the source, the thought of goats long gone from my mind.  But maybe I'll wash my hands just to be safe.

Let the games begin.

Spring keeps rolling on here in Olympia. The temperature is climbing day by day, the rains have subsided and the grass is growing full-tilt. That means yardwork, if at the very least lawn mowing. In our case it's garden creation day. A yard of compost awaits my eager shovel in the front yard. And the rototiller, still silent from a cold winter on leave has no idea it will once again be dragged from it's garage bunker and called in to duty to go into battle with it's mortal enemy, sod.

Before the landscape carnage begins I took a moment for reflection in the garden and captured a purple hyacinth happily awakened from her winter's slumber.