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402 days. 402 (plus or minus… mostly minus) posts.

Tag: spring

Day 123: Sheer Joy

It’s crazy warm in the middle north today! As I write this, it’s 43° F. 43! Spring! Everyone is smiling. We live for this. And although our slightly crazed feelings of glee may have more to do with vitamin D than actual happiness, we don’t mind.

In that vein, here are some delightful things that happened today:

  • The Easter bunny mailed me an Easter basket. It’s an enormous glass jar filled with jelly beans and M&Ms. I can’t wait to hide from myself and then find it on Sunday. I have the best Easter bunny ever.
  • One of my smart and funny co-workers tweeted this: “This is 40 (Degrees): Two lonely Minnesotans with cabin fever wear T-shirts outside prematurely … and find love.” Good stuff.
  • I ate an entire tub of hummus by myself. It was delicious. All of it.
  • Brian Boitano nearly died (again) and then revived himself (spring miracle?). I don’t know what happened, but a couple of good shakes to the ol’ fish bowl seemed to do the trick. I’ll keep an eye on him, but he seems as spry as ever.
  • The snow audibly melted. Everywhere I turned, the sound of water dripping, trickling and sloshing filled the air.
  • I thought it was Thursday, realized it was Wednesday and didn’t care one bit. I like my weekdays as much as my weekends (especially in the SPRING!).

pink fish

Brian B., looking good.

Day 114: Time is A Stinker

Time is both our great protector and our worst nemesis. It heals and moves us when nothing else will do.

Over a month ago, I naively blogged about how spring was nearly upon us in the Midwest. The four weeks between then and now have flown by and somehow gone excruciatingly slow.

I live where I do because I love the people, the arts and the drama of the seasons. Summer is easygoing and muggy, fall is crisp and colorful, winter is long and horrendous, and spring smells like pure happiness.

But our collective patience is wearing thin and the ever-nice locals are getting noticeably edgy. Snowstorms are usually followed by amiable shrugs, reaches for shovels and boots, and drawls of, “Ya know, it sure looks pretty.” This morning’s snowstorm was barely acknowledged, aside from a slightly crazed look behind my favorite barista’s eyes and a half-baked warning to take it easy on the roads.

And I get it. I feel it, too. I ran an errand after work today and when I got back to my car, it looked like this:

dirty car

I laughed and took a picture, because it seemed so sad and dirty. Two minutes later, I tried laughing again but I cried instead. My dirty door was iced shut, and I somehow managed to clean the entire side of it with my body as I flailed to the ground trying to get in.

So, my dear time. I honor and love you. I will continue to be patient with you as I take a hot bath and ice my elbows. But just know that we’re all counting on you to do your bidding. Heal the season and please give us a new one soon.

Day 95: A Black Bear

I’m a city girl by brain, but my heart lives in some kind of amalgamation of woods, fields, rivers and oceans. This afternoon, I stood on a street corner while cars screeched by and people laughed in coffee shops and I smelled it… nature! Spring! I know spring is still a ways away and I’ve already posted extensively on it here, here and here, but my heart is so ready for those little green buds.

In honor of the coming freshness, coolness, lightness and root-growing, here’s a poem by one of my favorite poets:

Spring
by Mary Oliver

Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring

down the mountain.
All night
in the brisk and shallow restlessness
of early spring

I think of her,
her four black fists
flicking the gravel,
her tongue

like a red fire
touching the grass,
the cold water.
There is only one question:

how to love this world.
I think of her
rising
like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against
the silence
of the trees.
Whatever else

my life is
with its poems
and its music
and its cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting;

all day I think of her –
her white teeth,
her wordlessness,
her perfect love.

mountain

Day 83: It Was a White Christmas


Here in the Midwest, we’re in a period I affectionately like to call “the worst time of the year.” The novelty of our dramatic winter has worn off, but we’re nowhere near the end of it. Our cars are covered in brown grit, our skin is visibly aching for vitamin D and all our good boots are covered in salt stains.

But, there are glimpses and tiny promises of spring emerging. If you’re a Midwesterner like me (and threaten to move to the coast every February), here are some happy thoughts to tide you over for the next 6+ weeks.

  • It’s still light out at 5 p.m. It’s the kind of bright evening light we haven’t seen since October. And it’s only getting lighter from here.
  • If it’s just a little bit breezy outside and you stand shivering on the street corner for long enough, you can catch a momentary hint of spring wafting past your nose. It’s worth the wait.
  • Sweaters are on serious sale right now. If you buy one (or two!), you’ll get at least a month of good mileage out of it before packing it up in your winter Rubbermaid.
  • All of that piled up snow will become welcome moisture for the trees and plants in a few short weeks.
  • The birds are starting to stir in the mornings. It’s possible that the birds have been stirring in the mornings all year long, but they’ll get pleasantly louder soon.
  • In six months, you will experience a moment of longing for the cozy blanket of winter. We’re swiftly approaching less cozy times, so you might as well snuggle up now.

Leaning tower of snow person