My Instagram followers will recognize this shot, which was published there yesterday. But my regular readers will know that redundancy is one of my hallmarks. So why not publish it here, as well?
The subject is, of course, our new grand daughter, Glenyce Jane S. The event was her first bath, being administered by a loving, efficient medical care expert, who did not pamper GJ.
I don't know know what kind of thought 10 hour old humans are capable of, but GJ's expression seems to be one of mild frustration mixed with resignation. She seems to be say, "If you really have to, I suppose. . . "
Words fail to convey how I feel about the birth of our new grand daughter. But here she is, only three hours old. She's so new to this world that her parents (Brian and Katie) have yet to name her. But we like her nick name:"June Bug."
For a person who thrives on warm weather and sunshine, June is an important month. The grass is pretty green by now, the days are incredibly long and there is the promise of summer.
The last time I had pondered my favorite little stone bird, 
So have you ever pondered the backside of a pink tulip? You have now. The title, as my friends from the '70s may recognize, is borrowed from Joni Mitchell's song by the same title, though in her case, she's talking about clouds.
When the sky began to grow light this morning, I looked out my den window and noticed something that gave me my first laugh of the day - a mallard standing on top of the building across the ally from our house. I quickly ran to get my camera and took several shots of him silhouetted against the sky. I thought he would fly away any second but it turns out there was no rush - an hour later he was still there. Maybe he sleeps up there? A room with a view. . .
Here's one more version of the pink tulips I've been posting for the last couple days. This is the side view of the same two flowers pictured two days ago.
I went out in the cold rain the other day and took about 50 photos, mostly of crabapple tree blooms ready to burst. But in my back yard I was struck by the wet aspen leaves stuck together and backlit by the sky. This is one of the last photos I took but it's the one I ended up liking most.
I took several photos of my wife's pink tulips. One was posted yesterday, as you may have noticed. And today I post another version. This one adopts an unusual point of view and but I remove the color. There is something a bit perverse about taking color away from a scene but black and white photographs require/allow us to see things that may be lost in the color versions. Anyway, this one has a bit of a eerie feel to it, if you ask me. But for now, I kind of like it.
I am hung up on flowers, obviously. And I am also once again compelled to comment on the power of the photographer's point of view. The conventional view of flower is from the side and from a short distance. The tulip becomes something quite different when you view it from the top at close range.
Well, here they are: my neighbor's purples tulips Water droplets from morning dew or from a spray bottle? I'll never tell.
I call this post "Finally!" because after what seems like and endless winter and cold spring, it finally feels like summer. And my wife's daffodils are celebrating the occasion by blooming.