Changing the subject

If I talk (or even think) about politics any more for a while, I may commit a violent act. Spring is so much more, well, springy. Here's what it looks like these days in my front yard . . .



My sister knows the name of these orange-red flowers, and she told me what it is, but I didn't write it down and now I've forgotten. All I remember is it starts with a "C" and has at least three syllables, more likely four.


These little flowers, ranging from lavender through pale, pale blue to white, appear every year. I have no idea what they are, but I love them; they're thick on my street in the parking strip between the curb and the sidewalk. Like walking through a field of stars.