I do not keep very good track of the calendar year. Meaning that I don't usually know what month different trees or shrubs can be expected to bloom in San Francisco, or how the weather here at this time last year compares to this year's weather, or which Sunday of which month every year the Gay Pride Parade takes place. But there is an exception. I know that some of the many thousands of small black-barked ornamental cherry trees planted along the city's sidewalks will begin to bloom by the end of January. This knowledge is narcissistic rather than botanical – because my birthday comes at the end of January, and it makes a Gigantic Marker inside my head. Yesterday on Hayes Street near Stanyan out in the neighborhood of the library where I work near Golden Gate Park (a cold and windy neighborhood, as a rule, and not conducive to early blooming) I saw this year's fist cherry blossoms, and took a picture of them.
That same day my daughter put up an impressionistic photo of a birthday cake for me (with merry burning candles) on our collaborative site, Silas & Eppie.