Today, coming home along Tennessee Avenue, I could hear Geraldine Page's voice, only she was saying, "Oh my, it's dogwood weather!"
And so it is, brilliantly: dogwoods flower pink and white clover-flags, turning from what a friend calls "green cream cheese like the moon" to white wedding cake icing to old white sheets, pimpled and creased.
Days like this, I am glad to live where dogwoods flourish, lighting the depths of forest still awaiting leaf.
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