Spring is Sprung

The cherry tree in the back garden is covered in the most beautiful palest pink blossom, a sign that spring has come at last after a February that was grey, dank and dull. The extremely wet weather has caused all the grass of the lawn to be replaced by moss, which the remaining guinea pig Albino Seal-Point Arthur seems quite unimpressed by. Not much to nibble on I guess.
Last week also saw the last of the season's timed head-races, for which we bored and chilled riverbank spectators raise a stifled, but heartfelt, cheer.
Unfortunately, Daughter #3's crew did not acquit themselves terribly well and the rest of the day was spent in grumpy discontent, compounded by her getting the push from her latest (imaginary) rock-band and it being nearly 'that time of the month'. There was a lot of flumping about and dramatic expostulation and a few tears, which the Flame-Haired BF did very well to cope with, given that he, too, is only fourteen.

Regatta season is just round the corner, a far better prospect for all concerned, shorter courses, better weather, visible action, obvious results. She is looking forward to the prospect as she reckons she is more of a short-burst athlete and is gratifyingly taking her training far more seriously since her coach took her to task for her lack of application earlier on in the year.
I am even considering the possibility of offering myself to train as a coxswain, given that I have already lost a stone on my new exercise regime (so wouldn't necessarily get stuck in, or sink a quad) and would love the chance to shout bossily at people in a good cause.