Come April I am desperate to see more color in the natural world beyond my doorway. The snow melt has left rivulets of brown earth all through the open fields which are also left browned by the harsh winter. Trees are still bare, their silvery gray bark peeling in the brisk wind, abandoned broken branches strewn all across my yard, while I crave soft pink, daffodil yellow and kelly green. The anticipation over Spring is building only making my yearning more frantic. Old time Nine Cent Girl readers will know, this time of year I often concoct a photo shoot with expectation dominating my mood board, pulling together an array of props from my closet to mimic the bright pastels and infectious joy that is about to arrive. This week that happened once more with me prancing about my living room, having donned three “new to me” outfits. Since I was a teen I have loved finding wardrobe favorites from thrift stores or yard sales or in the case of these dresses, from the pop-up sale of a friend’s closet. Perhaps not divine inspiration but a Spring Fling all the same.
Tag Archives: spring
Democracy will Survive
This afternoon, as I tried to corner my mind into one concise post, “State Representatives Justin Jones, Justin J. Pearson and Gloria Johnson — were facing expulsion from the [Tennessee] House, a dramatic act of political retribution” (New York Times). Jones, along with marchers driven to extremity in the face of obstinate denial, demanded law-makers reduce their gun-lobby-controlled agenda and do something, anything actually, other than offer up innocent citizens to the greed and profits of the weapons’ manufacturers. But, in all seriousness I really don’t want to write about guns in a country that is actually still debating the most basic gun control measures of any civilized country on the planet, like there are two sides to this? I also don’t want to write about the business man faced with 34 charges, all of which point to his sleazy dealings with women or country, anyone really, who stands in his power-mongering way. I did listen to Jonah Bromwich, a criminal justice correspondent for The Times, tell what it was like inside the courthouse as Mr. Trump was first brought in, and then charged, on The Daily podcast. The swagger, the bravado, and all the hype generally seen when this guy hits the pulpit minimized to two words, “Not Guilty.” The only words he uttered in court. Although he was warned by the judge to not rile people up with his harmful rhetoric, “to refrain from comments that incite violence or create civil unrest,” he was barely in the door at his Palm Beach playground when he did all of that. Ugh! This crazy crazy world has us all in knots and nightmares, in disputes over insanity and sanity, with a path that twists like Lombard Street. I’m done expounding words of obvious truth to airy illusion.
There is an abundance of sorrow on this small Earth, of that we might all agree, but there is also, at least here in northern Vermont, the ability to find joy quite easily in May. In the buds and flowers and leaves and warming temps and that fabulous blue sky hovering like sapphires above each and everyone. I am not ignoring the staggering horrors dropping like thick fog, but I am asking that mess to push aside for this day to feel a joy so big it overpowers. This week joy seems to be what lots of people reminded me to feel too: an unfiltered, possibly even a radical joy.