I’m standing outside in the library court yard enjoying a bit of fresh air and, what to me is a perfect spring day. Well almost!
Yes, it’s cloudy, but there is a hint of warmth in the air. I scan the trees on the hill side and neighbouring yards, looking for that patina of green that tells me the trees are dressing up again. There is none. My perfect spring day crumbles.
It’s not like the trees weren’t bare this morning when I walked to work. But spring happens fast in this country and I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, a few leaves would have taken the opportunity to break free and unfurl for me.
The trees are on strike, I think. Or maybe they are still in shock. This has been one of the coldest and most miserable springs I can remember. I hope it isn’t an omen.
It’s the sixth of May. The river is rising, being filled with run-off from the mountains. Why aren’t the trees at least trying? I return to my office and plunk myself down at my desk. I sigh.
I’m not much of a summer person. I don’t like excessive heat and I’m not all that fond of the bugs that come with it. Fall is my favourite season. Things cool down, the landscape is filled with bright yellows, oranges and reds, and the smell of wood smoke fills the air. I wonder why I want spring so badly today…
Perhaps it’s the fact that winter lasted so long. I don’t mind the winter, but there is a limit to the enjoyment one can get out of snow. It’s pretty when it’s fresh, but a few snow ploughs and sand trucks later, not so much. I also want to get out and clean up my yard a bit. Every time I find the time, it’s raining or the wind is so strong that raking leaves would just be pointless. I have a hankering to wash my van. I want to give the outside windows a bit of polish. I want to paint the deck rail. I want to start schlepping all the rocks out of my back yard and find the soil underneath so I can plant some grass. I want to mow the lawn. (Mental note: look for cheap lawn mower…) Oh, and I want to wear capris again. The sixth of May and I’m wearing a sweater over a shirt. I have socks on. I want to be barefoot. Before the bugs get too bad or winter returns. On the other hand, I don’t have to feel bad about not doing all that stuff and knitting instead.
I think I’ll bake cookies tonight. Chocolate chip cookies. Yes, that sounds like a cheerer-upper thing to do. Chewy, gooey, chocolate chip cookies warm from the oven with a frosty glass of milk will go ever-so-nicely with a Miss Marple mystery.
The perfect has returned!