65.01...


I think I actually got some sunburn on my face today while working out on the grounds, and it feels pretty damned good.
I wandered outside this morning at five when I got up, with a cup of coffee and, while it was cold, it didn't have the piercing effect that has been the norm of late. It was more of a early spring night cold that was wearing itself out as the sun crawled up to the eastern horizon, painting the fading darkness with fronds of light orange and deep purple, reflected off the scuddy clouds blown out from the land to the sea in the east, blown out by the constant westerly breezes we have this time of year, breezes that carry the tease of better weather to come, breezes that carry the cold air toward the sun, to be warmed and rolled back upon us later in the day. And the smell... what a wonderful scent, of damp earth, made sodden by the melting of the snow, the hint of that strange, yet wonderful odor of things long asleep being driven awake by the return of the sun to it's ever increasing arc in the sky... you can almost hear the world stirring. I'll bet if I put my ear to the bark of a tree this morning, I would hear the rushing of the sap, like the a churning of a swollen burn, racing down the fell after a hard and sudden summer storm... Things are stirring under the leaves in the flower beds, sparrows and finches and wrens fluff them up to hunt for a meal... The evergreens are not so droopy these days, they lift their branches, and perk up a bit. For months they've had the look of someone who has dozed off on the train, chin in chest, at sweet distance from the cold, unfeeling world around them as they race from then to now... as have I, for a good part of this winter. I love the winter, and I love the snow, but it made too much of itself this year. It usually comes and goes, like a well tempered guest, but this year it came and stayed. It lay heavy on the land. It beat down the hedges, it piled up against the doors, it camped on the window sills and attached itself to us when we went outside and helped itself in when the door was opened, to puddle the kitchen floor and make the halls smell of wet shoes. It filled in the hollows of the land and blew itself flat, making the world look like the sheet of a well made bed, taught and stretched, although not as inviting... It would pick itself up in the wind and drum against the house and the scour the skin and find it's way inside collars and down the chimney... It not only covered the world outside but wanted inside, too, to make itself at home, to sit at the table, to become part of the family... and then, in but a wink, it is gone, gone to the sky, gone to the sun, but for the few last remains of the piles made tall by our labors and our sore, old backs... gone to the air, save for those areas where, yet, the sun does not reach, making strange patterns on the land... a patch of snow the shape of the little barn clings to it's base on the northern side, like some strange shadow of light... odd, fan shaped patches in the woodlot out back, where the trees still block the rays of young Sol. But not for long. They, too, shall be gone, and winter will be over, tucked away in our memories to be pulled back out in the dog days, when the heat has dried everything but the blood in our veins and we'd give anything to be cool again...
So, today I raked and pruned and picked up branches and crawled around on my hands and knees picking up stray stones from the drive that were displaced by the, oh, far too many times it was cleared of snow. Better to find them now then with the lawn mowing machine in a month or so... It was a good day. I wasn't sure where it was headed, you know, though, when I first was sitting outside with that first cup of coffee... this time of year makes me go nuts. I don't suffer cabin fever very well and it's days like this where I have to grab hold of myself and focus on the things that need doing right now and not go off on some flight of fancy trying to do everything at once, oh, I so suffer from spring fever, terribly... mornings like today's make my mind race in every direction at once, I feel like I'm going to explode. But I managed to keep myself in rein and made a list and item number one was to clean up the grounds. I got about a quarter of them done, it's a real mess out there, between the snow and the ice and the wind, the ground is ankle deep in branches and limbs and pine cones and that's what I started on today, taking a little time out to prune back some wild rose bushes that threaten to take over the eastern side of the drive, that swing and sway in the winds, to grab you like some malevolent cur in the night when you try to get in or out of your vehicle. I hate the damned things, but they're tough and will probably still be around after the end of times and they make a nearly impenetrable barrier...
And that's why I'm still awake, sitting here, pounding away. There's nothing like fresh air, warm sun and intent labor to fill you with life. No holing up any more, those days are gone, I trust, and it's time to return to life, like the earth, like the things under the leaves, like the trees... I'll bet if you put your ear to me, you'd hear that rushing burn, too. I can...
Have a wonderful night, my fellow wanderers. Fare thee well.

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spew accordingly below...

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