Winter vacation - broken wrist - and now it's suddenly spring

It's been an odd, if short, winter.  I went to Mexico in late January and had a lovely time with my siblings (all but one) and parents.  Just now, flipping through the photos, I can recapture the ease and brightness of those ten days.  Some of us were staying in a condo/hotel - somewhat primitive but sufficient, and very spacious. Cerritos Beach was a couple of blocks away down a dusty, rutted road, past my brother's 1/3 acre compound of motorhome and palm-leaf-roofed open patio, where the rest of the clan were ensconsed.  (This is on the Pacific side of Baja, north of Cabo San Lucas and a little south of Todos Santos.)

The beach is a magnet for surfers.  Up on the hill above it is a glittering mansion, which serves as a luxury hotel now.  

After a week of sun-drenched days and just-cool-enough breezes, I tripped and broke my wrist.  I didn't think it was broken, though, and it didn't hurt all that much, so I kept on with the touristic routine with my family for another day

and then brought the wrist home to be x-rayed - and splinted, then put in a cast, then (because the bone was drifting a bit), put through surgery.  I have a titanium plate in there now.

After several weeks of hand therapy, I'm typing again, though the range of motion isn't the best.

And now - a month to five weeks early - it's spring here, birdsong, leaf bud, green grass and all.  May it not bode a slide into a baking and parched summer.