It’s pretty obvious what time of year it is here in Portland. In between the three or four day stretches of showers we have these glorious days of sun, blue skies, and rainbow landscapes. Mid-April is the peak of spring. The fushias are potted. The vegetable beds resting and warming. The dogwood blooms blow like a blustery winter snowfall.
Besides the neighborhood streets lined with showy shrubs and budding boxwoods, spring sports are alive and well at the High School. The track & field team meets, rain or shine, to run, leap, or throw in preparation for Friday’s competition.
On the other side of the “bowl”, the baseball team loosens(and I use that word loosely) up their arms tossing balls back and forth across the diamond. And here’s proof.
Hardly a walk in the park goes by without Carlos retrieving an errant ball. Sliding his snout into a prickly bush and pulling out a ball as if he was the center fielder plucking a ball off the fence to save a home run.
Baseballs are scattered all about the house: there’s a few under the sofa, one IN the sofa, one behind the bathroom door, and the “monkey ball” in his dog bed. That’s all without mention of the balls he’s buried in the yards.
So, soon after the baseball season ends I will contact my “crafty mom” friend who makes baseball wreaths out of these and gives them as gifts. Don’t ask me what they look like or how she does it, you can probably youtube it. And Please, baseball team, fetch your own foul balls!