The end of February brings a convergence of states of mind, states of weather and States.

Here in Oregon, we see our beautiful snowy mountains in the distance.

And early spring here in the valley.

Some of my other States are having unusual wintery weather.  Here is a shot taken yesterday in the small town in Oklahoma where I was born almost exactly 72 years ago.  The legend is that it was a very wintery day as well.  Also part of the legend is that all my extended family managed to get to the hospital to welcome their new-born babe.  It’s what families do.

And yesterday from my college campus in Texas, this iconic shot was posted.

Another iconic picture was posted by an old high school friend of his ranch this week, obviously, also in Texas.

In yet another state, in a warmer clime on a rock out in the middle of the Pacific, my birthday girl will be celebrating her natal anniversary this very day.  She is always a warm ray of sunshine.

Well, I guess our recently departed governor had to resign largely because of his obsession with an unfortunate choice, who is locally referred to as the First Ho.

Supposedly, among her other many transgressions, she was the cause of his waffling about the inevitable resignation.

Our next governor’s bio tells us that she is bisexual, presently married to a man.

Headlines describe our speaker of the house as “the first openly lesbian speaker.”

Oh, my!  Definitely TMI for me.

I wonder if there will come a time when publicity disclosures will say something such as, “Possible Democratic candidate Hillary Clinton is a post-menopausal, heterosexual woman, currently celibate, as she is married to Bill Clinton, who, it is rumored, now suffers from age-related impotence.”

Just do your jobs folks, and spare me the intimate details.

I always feel so sad when I see young men scrambling around Freddy’s filling up a basket with heart-shaped boxes of candy, useless red or black panties and bras, wine, flowers, and sometimes jewelry.  Am I forgetting anything?  They look very nervous as if they are afraid they are forgetting something. Is it about love?  Is it about sex?  Is it about affection? They mostly look pretty miserable to me.

And trust me, nobody, I mean nobody, wants these:

I used to leave a surprise on Ellen’s front porch on most holidays when she was the old lady on our block.  Now I am the old lady on our block!  I am honored to follow such a one as Ellen.  But since she is gone, I will spend the day pruning the roses.

One year, MM and I went a little crazy — and had a lot of fun.  She was at Berkeley and drove across the Bay so we could produce the following:

We are soooooo over our Martha Stewart silliness nowadays.

This week “my” Citizenship class  has been studying Abraham Lincoln.  Today is his actual birthday. Here, a hundred and fifty years later, it is hard to separate the man from the myth.

I contend that myths often portray greater truths than bare facts can, truths that are not bound by a particular moment.  Did he really say this?  Doesn’t really matter.  It was truth, then and, ominously, it rings true today.  Honest Abe.

A year has passed.  We were so blessed by your loving companionship.  What good times we had!