Even though it’s long past Easter by the calendar, it’s always Easter on our West Virginia island, as you can see by the daffodil that just popped by our moai. Though I’ve visited all seven continents, making it to Easter Island is one of those dreams I’ve yet to fulfill, and so I set up a pretend piece of that faraway land about 400 feet out back from the house, just before you get near the area with the bamboo and the Buddha.

As you can see here, the daffodils continue to explode. We had 1,494 in bloom yesterday, he admitted sheepishly. (As I’ve said, I do count them every few days, because I’m perversely interested in the bell curve of the blooming season.)