“Printemps” is French for spring. And walking home from taking Ella to school this morning, I spotted some workers prettying up the round-about near our tram stop, less than 350 steps from our front door (remember, I have a pedometer). I know it’s hard to see them with this cell phone quality photo, but click on it to see a bigger version. Anyway, I’ve seen flowers planted in all sorts of public places around town. This is serious work, as I think it is in any city. But somehow it seems higher on the To-do list in Nantes than in Seattle. Maybe I just have the time to notice it more?

And, yes, that’s my beloved Ligne 2 (Line 2) of the tram heading toward our stop. Reviewing this picture I started thinking, “If Ligne 2 was a woman I’d ask her to marry me.” Then I thought, “Wait a second, I’m already married!” Then I saw the men planting flowers and thought, “That’s right, it’s spring, the season of romance,” and realized that I was just letting the longer days and warmer temperatures carry me away. I forgave myself, but made a mental note that perhaps I should be getting some flowers for Melinda.