Highs near 80 this week, though the meteorologist (or, as he says it, “meat-eater-ologist”) on the radio reminded us that it is technically still winter. Yuck!

A meat-eater-ologist would have a lot of study subjects in this area.

The whole winter was absurdly warm, and since early February we’ve had a constant deluge, so we’re having Mud Season this year, just like Vermont. I fear the Mosquito Problem to Come. Because you know every time I get a headache this summer I’ll spend at least 20 minutes being convinced that it’s West Nile encephalitis.

Some trees never really lost their leaves. Some are unfolding pale green, as usual.

So very many are dead. Last year’s drought was brutal for Houston’s trees, with estimates that up to a third of them died. We should be thankful, I guess, for a mild winter, which might have coddled some of the weaker ones through until this spring’s rain. But plenty of them couldn’t take even the tiny bits of cold weather, and they remain grey and skeletal, sad shadows.

(*When I was little, we had a pale blue beach towel with a blue walrus on it. On one end was a smaller walrus with the word “harrumph” underneath. This was, of course, “the harrumph towel.” My sister and I used to fight over it. I’ve never seen anything else with Harrumph [the walrus’s name, of course] on it. Wouldn’t I just love a harrumph mug!)