slowed down spring

slowed down spring

Easter was two days ago. this is not a day i feel like writing,
but i said i would. . .it snowed on Easter, and it didn’t really stop anything.
it slowed down spring thinking. we were not
all running to the garden shop.
we were running home to make egg salad with all our cracked, painted, organic Easter eggs.
we were rushing home to get out of our pink organza blouses, pink striped Easter ties,
pastel wraps and into black warm Henley’s, with long underwear and furry boots.
oh yes, Vermont basics.

more each year, it is apparent that when one says, “spring,”
it must be remembered any real beginning has severe back and forth in it.
it’s a rocking motion, back and forth. . .
a step forward, three steps back. . .a lunge forward,
one step back. . .this is the opening to what’s new. . .
this is the way it goes. we stay focused on spring with the humor of what’s been seen before.
we know nothing is wrong. we know no matter what, it’s still spring.

we look for more evidence that is is so. i saw two robins.
there is a foot of snow. the tulip heads are sticking up.
the temperature is 34 degrees. the chickadees have changed their song.
wild turkeys are in the fields. the pond is starting to thaw.
the stream is running hard. the ice on the swimming pool is melting.

we must not get engaged in pity, when we hear of flowers on the West coast.
we must not get mired in animosity, when we see the weather lady
on the hotel tv, with icicles hanging off her eyelashes. . .
or we pull up to the house and see icicles off the front roof.
some of them two feet long. all right. . .already. . .this is just all part of what spring beginnings look like.
leave out the wish
for drama and despair and just deal with it.

April 10, 2007