May 12, 2010

When the weather shifts

First: thanks, Brandon, for the offer to look into my server trouble. You are a prince.

Second:

The blogs are sporadic, I know. But look outside. Grass. Flowers. Intermittent sun. Blogging or being outside. Which would you choose?

Neighbours have appeared beyond the fence wearing dirty clothes, the inexplicably popular Crocs, broad-brimmed hats or ball caps or devil-may-care bandanas. They’re  eager to share chunks of Hosta and tips about when to fertilize and when not to prune. Grocery store parking lots have given over a quarter of their real estate to hastily erected, and entirely temporary, gardening centres. My brother calls from the west coast and idly muses as to whether this will be the year when he finally succeeds in growing a Clematis. Even my own backyard looks promising (alas, I’m usually the one who causes that promise to be broken – not without a few tears of guilt and remorse).

Other signs of the seasonal shift:

The winter toys that dotted the front yard of my neighbour – tiny shovels, little sleds, home-made slides that would allow a child to enjoy the exhilaration of sliding for approximately an eighth of a second, etc – have all been swept away and replaced by tiny rakes, little bikes with training wheels, a clownishly large red plastic baseball bat, etc. I find these toys cheery, no matter what the season.

When people walk by the house they look thinner to me. This is because of the magical spring jacket which, in contrast to the winter coat, looks sleek, like it might almost allow one to fly. Paradoxically, and somewhat regrettably, inside the house – when the jacket is removed – it loses its magic because winter pounds do show, don’t they?

One tries on last years clothes. This has the capacity to delight or depress, but that depends on whether one likes or dislikes shopping for new clothes in a larger size.

One thinks about exercise.

One’s toenails look strange.

The house seems dirtier and less tidy than ever. The reason for this? The house actually is dirty and untidy but one is outdoors so often and for so long that it’s a new shock every time one returns home. And because one is outdoors so much, there simply isn’t time to clean and tidy.

The grass becomes a little too confident. Cocky, even. It acts as if it could mow itself.

And this, too, could be seasonal, but I have doubt:

While writing, one shifts from “one” to “I” regularly without knowing how remain consistent, and/or too lazy to go back and rewrite. One embarrasses myself, or I embarrass one’s self.

All to say that the year is rolling in the right direction. The branches of Shad Blow hang with tissuey white blossoms. Males finches are yellow again. Two turtles have appeared in my pond, and thousands of tadpoles are losing their tails and dragging themselves into adolescence.  Summer will come. And fall and winter. Another year. My wish for this one is that it is not much unlike the last, and that continuing life is all we know and want.

COMMENTS

One Response to “When the weather shifts”
  1. Jane Greening

    Glad to see you are back blogging.