This is a post in which I have absolutely nothing and everything to say, and I expect it to be largely a mess, the way the end of winter is so often messy. It will also be blessedly brief, for both our sakes. My allergies have come early, mold and mites and a bunch of things that were never quite properly killed off with a righteous blast of the freezing spells that once characterized our winters are in full effect, undimmed by this relatively warm season. Unburied by snow and ice, such tiny monsters are wreaking their havoc, leaving me with the infuriating feeling of being constantly on the edge of a cold, with sinuses that sting and a nose that runs at only the most inconvenient of times. And exhaustion, regular and debilitating exhaustion that is entirely unwelcome when there is so much to be done.
This little crocus is the first sign of floral life, but I’m not counting on it to bloom. Chipmunks usually eat its head off before it can give us a proper show, and I find life is better spent not expecting anything great, and then being happily surprised if such good events are destined to happen. All we have is the here and now.
The back patio is a shambles. Our canopy has been disassembled, and we need to rent a dumpster to get rid of two broken-down canopies. I need to paint a bathroom somehow. And the yearly yard clean-up, always one of the most onerous and back-breaking tasks, looms immediately on the horizon provided there is no rain. My spirit is dampened and I’m seeking (and failing to find) the ambition and drive to make much of this happen beyond a few half-hearted minor motions per day. (On the evening of this writing, I moved some turtlenecks from the guest room closet to the attic. That would be it.)
So let this crocus inspire you, and me, and the whole coming onslaught of spring. Godspeed to us all.
Hey, at least we’re not in the royal family. Silver lining.
