b ~ And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!

I am ready to say goodbye to:

Winter coats, fleece scarves, warm hats, handknit gloves & mittens.

Bulky sweaters, wool socks, thermal undergarments, and corduroy pants.

Flannel sheets, down comforters, electric blankets and hot water bottles.

Snow shovels, ice scrapers, sanding buckets, and the woodstove.

Words like fuzzy, cushion, snug; barriers that protect and comfort. I
feel like we have been stumbling around in a numbing daze. There are
times when the weather has been harsh and biting; as an act of
preservation we try and take our beds with us. And rather than walk
with a comforter wrapped around our shoulders, we adapt. (Some days
I’d rather just take the blanket with me, but I find it hinders
driving.)

We consume large quantities of foods like porridges, soups, stews and
casseroles designed to be thick and hearty, stick to yer ribs, and
fill your belly. But soon fresh greens begin to call to us, sprinkled
with a twist of citrus or a bracing vinaigrette. Outside bears rouse
from their slumber, having been sleeping peacefully morning, noon and
night. Now they are ready to get on with the business of foraging.

At the first sign of thaw, I imagine there are some people who run
headlong into Spring’s embrace, casting aside those necessities that
protected them from the elements these many months.

That is not me.

It could be said that I carry with me a certain amount of trepidation,
a somewhat more cautious nature.

I peel back the layers bit by bit. I slowly add words to my lexicon,
testing them on my tongue: crocus, snowdrop, daffodil. Waiting until I
have visual proof before I believe in their existence again. Excited
to think about tapping trees, sap buckets and making syrup. Warm
winds, blue skies, colorful kites gliding by. Wishes that begin to
come blossom.

Where we live we do not quit the Cold cold turkey. True to our Yankee
spirits we hang on to what we need until it no longer suits us. Bulky
sweaters replace our thick coats, snow shovels are still near at hand
and the woodstove will be a companion for many more weeks– though we
are not as enslaved to it. I for one continue to wear my (thinwale)
corduroys well into summer. I find it hard to part with the swishing
sound as I walk from place to place. It will be awhile before I can
make the leap to short sleeves or midlength skirts. But I know their
time is coming.

Daylight savings time means longer days, shorter nights; the need to
be cuddled, snuggled and wrapped slowly begins to leave us. One step
at a time we venture forth into the friendlier outdoors. Enticed by
green grass, the sound of running water and chirping birds. The
promise of all that is to come.

It is time to wake. Arise. And go.

But first: Mud Season.