random acts of nature.

Technically, it’s spring. But it’s snowed three times in the past month, rained nonstop. Also, hail. And then, oddly, sun with freezing temps? Monday, 78 degrees? Tuesday morning 39 degrees!!! Dear Mother Nature: Oh, Mama. I get it. Motherhood is hard. Just ride those mood swings out; I'm here for you. I spent my “spring break” holed up inside napping, knitting, organizing closets, baking bread. I gave winter one last hurrah before the curtain fell, and it was glorious until it wasn’t, until I’d played a million rounds of gardening in the cold, read my books, glued pom poms to cups and plates, to spring wreaths. Even the dogs felt stir crazy, stealing socks out of the laundry basket and leaving sufficiently chewed ones in their place.

I know, I should be thinking about cleaning windows, scrubbing carpets and mulching flower beds, but right now the breaking news is that the trees are leafing, bursting forth incredible blooms. bushes are sassy with color. flowers are popping up like nobody's business. You may find this to be charming and delightful or off-putting and rude. I know, I am walking a fine line here, clearly not everyone understands the bare bones excitement of watching a leaf unfold before your very eyes, but Dude! I'm reeling with it. We dreamers are slaves to glorious and random acts of nature, what can I tell you? For those of you that find this crashingly dull, I apologize, it's not you, it's me. So, what's bringing me to my knees at the moment you ask? snowberry, dogwoods, devil's walking stick, candy colored tulips...the earth is dripping with flowers and the grass is now a psychedelic green.

By the time dawn tumbles through the windows I am up, watching April slip into May, definitely my favorite time of the year. Everything is exploding. I love the light play and the way it illuminates in places that only happens this time of the year. I love the way morning looks, sleeping on the grass all dewy and soft. the sudden blast of a thunderstorm, washing the air clean while casting bewitchingly, cool cricket~spun evenings. So while I have the luxury of a few lucid moments to myself, I let my thoughts flutter about my brain like crazy moths banging into one another. as they fly away, I don't chase a single one.

 And the things I'm holding my breath for, lilacs, phlox, iris and my beloved peonies! Ahhhh, Peonies were my grandmother's favorite flowers too, they always make me smile...comfort me. their scent softly caressing me, as if my grandmother were tenderly kissing my cheek. These are the thoughts I have. All I can think of. I took biology in school. I know how all these things work, and that they are a guaranteed round trip ticket, always returning. But still, I feel like I'm seeing it for the first time~every single time. Miracles unfolding every second. a few days ago... fat, sticky buds. they were tiny, earthy colored, a sort of a pale nothing to write home about color. But now, now, seemingly overnight, in the time it takes to catch a quick forty winks, as if a memo went out from Mother Nature, an explosion! green. pink. white. yellow. blues so vibrant I am in the process of looking for a new word for it. 

For some of you this is passee. old-hat, a suit of rather antique appearance. run of the mill. an every day occurrence. In Southern California, spring starts early, hills turn green, everything is clean and the wildflowers are putting on a show and blooming from the foothills, to the desert and back to the coast! L-U-C-K-Y!

 Those of you in the south, spring for weeks already. Cherry blossoms. white and red trillium. violets. buds on maples, oaks, hickory and walnut trees. scattered white and pink of dogwood trees. all the while quietly awaiting the breathtaking huge white blooms of the mountain laurel in May. everywhere beautiful. Yet up here, up here it's slow going, some of our trees are actually still rather naked. just starting to unfurl their first tentative leaves. But the verdure is suddenly becoming more than a promise. I can't help but marvel at the copious greens.

I love spring. never to me a season of "tweeness." Spring is my time.  all those delirious daffodils. twirling tulips. bleeding hearts. carpets of bluebells. fields of primroses. clouds of pear trees. cotton candy crab apple trees. delightful Hawthorns. attention demanding cherry trees. not to mention a bunny hopping around and a whole day just for Moms. it's a poet's season all raging blooms and time of renewal. rebirth. a proper season. no, there is nothing simpering about spring.

A time of miracles. magic. enchantment. extraordinary. fascination. spirituality. mythical. I gaze at each growing thing with Bette Davis eyes, mouth agape in an exaggerated cartoonish O, while loudly exclaiming to anyone that will listen "amazing! how did that happen?"  

...spring, you are truly fabulous. 

just sayin'.