To Spring or not to Spring?

Slowly, hesitantly, haltingly, now advancing and now retreating, Spring is slouching toward New Haven. As I write the sun is shining and the mercury hovering near sixty degrees Fahrenheit. There is a cool spring breeze, though it hints and threats at a wintry chill and an angry howl. Eli, at least, is convinced that Spring has arrived. All around flowers threaten to bloom and trees to blossom, and always Eli lies in wait to nip them in the bud. After Church Eli swept a host of dandelions into her arms, bore the bouquet proudly into the apartment, and set it on display. Julia officiously shoved Eli's face into the flowers to help her sister get a better smell. The smell proved too good. Eli's nostrils filled with pollen and her eyes swelled shut with hay-fever. Her right eye has recovered, but her left still resembles Rocky Balboa's after an encounter with the mechanical Soviet. Ach, Frühling!

Jumping the gun by a week, the girls wore their Easter dresses to Church today. After getting dressed they flocked with dash and abandon to the full-length mirror in our bedroom. Happily, they arrived in reverse order by height. All could see at once, and goddess Vanity was thrice adored.
Katharine, though, wished to pay especial homage to the household divinity. She trotted me out to the living room and announced a personal photo shoot.
It proceeded by phases--several shots per pose, followed by a pause during which Katharine scrutinized my work and admired her features.
Yesterday at breakfast, Katharine cupped Lia's face in her hands, and, with only a couple inches separating their two noses, asked, "Mommy, am I a grownup?"
Because we don't have anything going on over the next couple months, and because Lia has loads of spare time lying on her idle hands, she has decided to make each of the girls a Renaissance-style princess dress to wear while they visit castles in Deutschland. She has started with Eli's and is making fantastic progress--though not quite swift enough for Eli. A few mornings ago, Eli burst into our bedroom at an early hour, flashed a sweeping grin, and asked: "So! How's that dress coming?" Readers will know from the picture below how it is coming.
On Thursday Julia's school had its monthly Town Meeting. This month the theme was poetry. Julia took the proclamation of "A Poem in Your Pocket Day" literally and transcribed Tennyson's "The Mermaid" onto a leaf of scrap paper, which she folded and stuffed into her pocket (it was a bit of an ordeal finding a pair of pants that met Julia's standard of comfort but still had a pocket). At the Town Meeting, Julia stood out in the midst of a score of recitations from Shell Silverstein by arising and reading (without attribution) the following excerpt:

I would be a mermaid fair;
I would sing to myself the whole of the day;
With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair;
And still as I comb'd I would sing and say,
Who is it loves me? who loves not me?
I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall
Low adown, low adown,
And I should look like a fountain of gold
Springing alone
With a shrill inner sound,
Over the throne
In the midst of the hall.