Saturday, March 5, 2011
In a week or two they will be gone; their migration taking them northward. Even if I were to strip them of their symbolic meaning for me, they would still carry the herald of Spring with them.
I'm so grateful for March. I recall those colorful cutouts my elementary teachers put on their classroom walls. I loved the lion and the lamb, and the teachers saying, "March comes in like I lion and goes out like a lamb." This was soon followed on the walls by a parade of tulips, daffodils, yellow chicks, and bunnies.
March still has cold days, and often brings snow, but there will be some warmer days when you can smell spring in the air. One of peonies is pushing its red tips through the hard dirt. Some of my tulips and daffys are stretching their long green fingertips up through the dirt testing the air to see if it time to come out. I don't know if they are excited to be above ground, to feel the sunlight. But I am excited to see them. I am never in the mood for planting in late fall, but come early spring, I am so glad that I spent hours kneeling in the dirt, digging holes to tuck in little rock and onion shaped things.
This month also brought with it an end to our being sick. After two weeks it is finally unusual for one of us to break into a series of hacking coughs. We missed Valentine's day. The three of us were together, but on the sofa, under blankets. Instead of cards, flowers, and sharing a box of chocolate, we had cough drops, boxes of tissues, and a small plastic bucket lined with a grocery store bag, for used tissues, and in case anyone needed to throw-up. My son used it for that several times. We also kept a pump dispenser of hand sanitizer on the end table. Ah fun times.
I am overtaken with impatience for Spring, for flowers, dirty hands, and buckets of dirt. But this is important time. I need to work on improving my writing. And also my house cleaning was a bit neglected while we were sick. So it isn't time for rushing outdoors with a shovel. No, that time really isn't until May. Now I need to transplant piles of clothing to more suitable locations, water the kitchen floor, divide paragraphs, and weed out unruly sentences.