I hate to admit it – but I fear spring is rearing its nasty little green head.
The snow has gone. And though some fell again just the other day, within hours, (or so it seemed to me), it melted away. Leaving behind brown, matted grass, obviously tired and not yet ready to wake up and begin that damn cycle of photosynthesis all over again.
That snap in the air which is winter is disappearing. The sun seems more persistent and I know for certain, (though those I’ve mentioned it to refuse to believe), I felt a definite warm breeze just two days ago.
I’m not ready for spring. I need more winter storms. A long string of blizzards tumbling over these hills and mountains, allowing me to hunker down with books and notepads and journals, listening to the blowing wind and snow silence. The tea kettle bubbling away as I read to myself, read aloud, scribble this and that. Mixing savoury soups in bulk; freezing zip lock bags of the stuff labeled in black sharpie against a future busy day.
My true fear of spring lies not without. My dreading of it isn’t connected to the warming temperatures, the trouble of yard work, or thoughts of Holy crap I haven’t exercised enough how’re my legs gonna look in shorts, or even to thoughts of growing older – taking yet one more inescapable step toward possible disease and eventual, certain death.
Ok, maybe that last one a little.
My problem with spring is within. I can sense it coming on, feel it in mah bones. Even now, in the midst of February, (a lovely and truly underrated month – though I consider Valentine’s Day utterly bogus), with kith and kin and those irritating television news and weather people complaining about the too cold temperatures, I know it’s becoming spring damnit because I’ve begun haunting my most dangerous Pinterest boards…
Those beginning with the word Decorating.
And continuing scientifically, as though Decorating were a genus. Defining things yet further: Decorating: basement. Decorating: bathrooms. Decorating: lofts. Decorating: bedroom, Decorating: the eclectic common room.
Not to mention other, just as frighteningly named boards like Outside Ideas, DIY Now! Projects, and, (horror of horrors), Organization.
And, as if haunting the forever elusive boards of Pinterest weren’t enough, thanks to the siren call of spring I’ve dug out old magazines. Pulling them by the armful from deep within the bins beneath my bed where they rightfully belong and, in a fair and just world, would remain.
It’s spring fever – that’s what it is. And it’s horrible.
I’m thinking of painting the dining room, (including the ceiling.) Of framing more pictures, finding new furniture for the family room, planting a bamboo border on the west side of the house – or perhaps it’s the east – I find these hills confusing and am never quite certain.
(Though I’m pretty there’s a compass around here somewhere.)
Of installing more shelves in the dining room. Of steam cleaning the tile, actually repainting all the nicks and dents on the walls though they’re already nicely mudded and sanded and I no longer notice them all that often. Of arranging our paperwork so it’s all in one spot rather than spread between two file cabinets, one laundry room drawer, and a cute chrome champagne bucket on the kitchen hearth. And – yes I admit it – I’ve already begun clearing out my three and one half craft cupboards and have plans to organize the lot in one place!
Do you see what spring does to a person?
Sitting with a bowl of soup, some homemade bread, and a cuppa tea amidst a pile of books while the snow rages outside doesn’t sound half bad now does it?