What happened to spring?

In two days it will be summer. It really hasn't been much of a spring here in Seattle, mostly a chilly damp miasma, with teases of loveliness. The weeds seem to have prospered, crab grass, morning glory and dandelion varieties, but nothing really attractive. Roses are sporting black spots, aphids and rust, and the atmosphere needs some kind of sunny burn off. But not for too long.
Lay awake in the wee hours, after drifting up out of strenuous dreams of climbing adventures. Read a bit from the Edward Abbey reader which has enabled me to revisit this quirky, maddening yet moving fellow. He observed that he liked coyotes, in a selection describing a long ago trip down the Green River in Utah, through canyon and desert country. That triggered a Joni Mitchell musical cascade in my brain, the whole Hejira album, which triggered cascades of spinal chills. Gradually lost consciousness in memory shards of coyotes chorusing at pre-dawn, dutch oven delights, and the feeling of sharp crystalline rock on my skin.
Late to bed.