Springtime in Colts Neck, New Jersey

I love the Netflix radio spots where the contestant attempts to correlate meaningless clues. Reminds me of the blog as a medium. Writing in the first person on a blog is akin to talking about yourself constantly.

Everywhere.

Blog long enough and you'll talk about yourself to inanimate objects. You'll talk to the electronic EZ-pass reader in a Turnpike toll plaza. You'll talk to a train of shopping carts in front of Wegman's. ("Hey, you! Don't roll away from me. I'm not done talking to you yet!")

Lonely enough a tree. Wood -- not the best conversationalist.

One of my hobbies is taking pictures of flowers. Especially if there's a critter on the flower. Sort of like my Aunt Tessa at the Venetian hour dessert table at my cousin Gus's wedding. She ain't moving.

Easy shot.

One hope is to catch a hummingbird mid-flight atop a flower.

Hard shot.

I've come close to that shot in Colts Neck, New Jersey three times in seventeen years.

So in honor of Springtime, the seasonal savior of our discontented Northeast winter, I present a montage of my second rate flower photos. "Second rate" because I lost my primo shots.

Spring is the season of second chances, though.