It was pouring, gorgeously wet, when I went out and walked to the river. The story here, on these trails, is still the tiny maple buds sprinkled everywhere. It’s a pleasant drenching. Poor Charlie. He got soaked. And started to suds. Soapy Charlie in the rain. As it turns out, two days ago, Frank “gave him a bath” outdoors to rid him of the terrible smell of coyote scat. Well, perhaps he didn’t rinse him as effectively as he sudsed him. My son found Charlie, wet from rain and covered in suds! I was on Zoom with a client when I looked out my window and saw the hard rain turn to sleet, and then I saw the sleet turn to snow, and the green grass whitened and it was a strange sight. It kept coming down and whitening everything. I had my second vaccination appointment, and drove through the streets to Cambridge, seeing all the trees in bloom, covered in snow. The green grass looked as if all the petals sprinkled the ground. I spent almost all my tearful emotion about the vaccine at my first appointment. What I found today, experienced now as I was, was a quiet kind of satisfaction, and I was humming, who knows why, in the line, waiting, and then humming and a bit more waiting, and then the prick, and then in the waiting room, full of post-vax people hanging around for their 15 minute supervision, and then I started to feel quite cheerful, and nobody in the room was moving their arm! They all sat quietly, and I started moving mine, ‘cause they said, the first time, move the arm you got the shot in so it won’t hurt as much. So, I taught this to everyone, and they all started moving their arms, and I said, well, keep this up for two hours, and all the new people had to come in and be trained, so I filled my time happily leading exercise class until my time was up, and I went back out into the weather that was rain, once again, and I drove very happily home and my arm wasn’t sore, practically not sore at all.