Eve.

Big things are afoot here in the Cabinet, possibly the biggest since its creation. You should now update bookmarks and browsing routines so as to find me in my brand new digs. Tres chic, non?

You'll still be able to access everything about the old Cabinet, but I'm also not making the old Cabinet disappear. It's the best kind of move ever: I don't have to pick up anything heavy, and I can come back to the old house whenever I want.

Little mouth.

All hail the new season.

For now, my world is these spots of green, these shoots of new, dotted with fuzz and damp. Sharpnesses go soft; ground prepares to disappear for the next half-year. I pass the woods daily, wonder whether I should tramp and traipse and risk mud and groundsink before the poisonous weeds block me for the summer. Instead I strain toward tiny leaves, crouch to fallen blossoms, watch the world seed itself over. Instead I get closer to what I can already reach. Instead I practice focus. Instead I fight the impulse to autopilot.

Tutelary celebrant.

He has been out there for just as long as this blog has been alive, and so this March marks the fourth time he's waited to welcome you to spring.

Mess of green.

The way we live now.

Settling and growing.

It's been a day for feeling my way through things, which is a more difficult and more worthwhile process than the kinds of fixes for which I reached when I was younger and knew less.