They lost my luggage; they're not making me lose a Sunday post, too.

My day was so lovely for so long that I'm just trying to leave Dulles to one side, along with the fact that I, and probably many of the twenty other people from my flight who didn't get their luggage, had to buy a new toothbrush on the way home from the airport. "You looked like you were on a mission," said the cashier at the Kroger's; I suppose I had rushed in at an even more precipitous pace than usual.

And so, the lovely middle of the day:

and even

The accretion of silliness that awaited me in Columbus got me so cranked up by the time I drove my car out of the parking lot that not only was I almost not able even to calm myself down by thinking about the sun and the cheery puttery crowds and the flowers, so many flowers, in the market in Ottawa and the stagger of bright-lit planes lined up to land at Dulles after dark (seven, little mobile planets). I also nearly, nearly missed noticing that the trees in the medians near the airport have burst into tiny profuse blossoms. Coming home in the dark, I found myself believing, really believing, that things even smell different, earthier, springier, five days since I was last here. My own magnolia tree is pushing toward spring revelation; I pulled a branch down to check, when I finally reached home.