Does it seem too Captain Obvious to point out that The Pinkness isn’t all sunshine and bluebirds?  Or to observe that if you really want sunshine and bluebirds A) you aren’t necessarily going to find them at the Arboretum in the fading light when you get there after commuting home 100 miles or B) you might need to bring your own bluebirds.

Of course, The Pinkness is all about light, and life penetrating this thick, winter dullness.  Sometimes you feel as exuberant as a breeze carrying petals into your hair, but sometimes it is rain drop by rain drop, seeping along the crevice where the stalk meets the earth, down to where our roots are waking, ready to begin their work.