Just about any season might be a possible walking season, but early April in Vermont might be the toughest there is for this activity. Roads are muddy and rutty, generally wet and even icy in shady spots, but still, with extra determination, I get outside when I can face it. Even if my long coat is required and I must wear a wool hat, the sunshine is delicious. The icy north wind dictates how long or short these jaunts can last, but one does build fortitude while combating such conditions, right?
How does one survive this transitional time in April? In our home a challenging puzzle now covers our table, the only one we breakfast, lunch or dine on I might add. So you might say we are mixing it up on the eating front, slightly preoccupied with puzzle making, finding shape and form in the sea of green, or a pinky white that creates sky, to me, these loose pieces are a blur of possibilities which more often than not don’t fit.
Thankfully, over time, form does appear, however arduous the task. Shapes connect to each other, colliding to form cliff and town, small boats and doorways now dot the landscape; this dreamy village in Cinque Terre begins to realize in our home. 2000 pieces once in a box, now sprawl across this table, coming together as we sit ready for Spring to really materialize beyond these window panes.
Patience is not a ready-made virtue in my disposition. It must be cultivated, and nurtured, and urged onward like a stubborn toddler. I walk on the dirt road. Move through poses on my mat. Coax bulbs to yellow blossoms on the sill. We find light, and color, and the promise of warmer days within.