Spring hath not Sprung

It's especially true in this vernal equinox morning.

I had been yearning for blueberry scones at the Blue Spoon Atelier downtown, but we will likely stay home where Sue is attending to her knitting. 

She was counting the stitches. She missed one of 97 in that row.

Meanwhile, the geese hunker down in the field opposite as if quietly resigned their fate.

And I also reluctantly accept my scone-less fate. Dangitall.