One can’t force seasons to materialize, but in the meantime, one can lean on poetry, and dare to don pink hair, if only to bring Spring closer in spirit if not in reality. Imagine, with a feisty me, and the genius of Miss Emily Dickinson, that perhaps, this March will dissolve quickly into April. Soon.
A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period –
When March is scarcely here
Although there is little evidence in the still bare trees and brown fields, life is indeed returning. One can sense it in the morning light, longer afternoons, and the warmth of the sunshine; best yet, birds have returned north to fill our gardens with their music. Seemingly slow coming, but small signs appear each day and I am soaking it all in. O joy! Happy Spring to All!!
The ducks returned to the pond
Sometimes life is perfect. Right when you need it most. And this week, as my sister put it, “You hit the lottery.” Now, considering all the curve balls we have been running to catch, the near misses we have handled, and the hits we have taken, good fortune is indeed due. But does need predict success? Does desperation grant achievement? I will tell you, no, a flat out no. Just ask anyone experiencing troubles. No one feels their challenges were warranted, nor is there a quota; yet despite misfortune, miraculously, most learn to endure all that comes their way. Thankfully this week, we kick up our heels. Smile brightly. Look up. For fortune favored us.
My life as a blogger revolves around chasing ideas until I can find time to wrestle them into cohesively arranged words. There is a slight manic quality to my self-imposed deadline, and a rushing, always a rushing. Yet once posts are published they quickly fall aside for the next one to manifest. Rarely do I look back on my words. But a few posts stay vivid in my memory and I recall them like old friends with lingering fondness. This week I remembered one post in particular, and it made me laugh and then smile. Originally called “Care Package” it was written in February of 2011 after I recovered from a bad bout of the flu. I wonder how many of you read this post before? Well, perhaps even if you have, you will find it worth a second read– a recycling of something valuable. If so, do let me know!
While the 5 1/2 months of snow drift finally melts from the yard, the faintest green of crocus is breaking through the brown of our garden beds. With this hint of spring I am drawn to search into the back of my closet to undo the restraints of my utilitarian winter garb. I take inspiration from the 1920’s mavericks who yearned for freedom, striped off their Victorian corsets along with the limitations set upon women of their day: they marched for their voice–for the vote–for all we have today in terms of female liberty and their unconfined dress screamed autonomy. As I await the buds and color just around the corner, I break out a bit myself, choosing a flowing vintage silk shift to wear while wandering about the awakening trees in the morning light.