That Time of Year...

Yes, friends, it's that time of year when your hosts, Dr. W & MB, once again contemplate the Happiness Index, the size of house to sanity ratio, the craziness of The Dog, the muddiness of the yard and all things locational.
Should we move?
Should we get a new(er) car?
Should we start stuffing money under the mattress, you know, just in case?
Should we reseed the yard or just pave it over?
Should we plant a garden?
Do we need a bigger house or should we take a trip to Ireland?
Do we need a newer car?
Should I get a new bicycle?
Should we add on?
Should we get a shipping container, put it in the backyard and turn it into My Office?
What, friends, Should we do?

Not Another Spring Sonnet

Inspired by the contest over at Prarie Home Companion, I decided to write a non-spring Spring poem. Plus I still owe Hightouchmegastore about 9 poems from September. Plus it is Poetry Month and I hear tell that several poets are doing NaPoWriMo. Not me, but someone, somewhere. So here it is. And forgive my wonky lines. It's my first poem since September!

So here’s your sonnet, without daffodils,
sentiment or rain. Lacking any reference to green,
anything floral, fecund, or new. Not full
of love or harmony or peace. Do I seem
bitter? I’m not. It’s just when the pollen
comes out, I sneeze, and then I think
of all the chores still to do, chairs to haul in,
grill to put out. My husband needs to fix the sink.
Also, my perennial failure to maintain a garden.
But too, I’m glad. For one thing, this year
I vowed to give up on a lush yard. In
winter it’s easy to do. But I’ll renege, I fear.
Because, once again, I love every growing thing.
Despite myself, in spring I love the spring.