I'm here, I promise. Lots of interesting things afoot... the world is pregnant with possibility.
In general, a busy season is approaching. I have a lawn mower in need of repair, and will soon have a lawn which needs attention. There are several niggling little home maintenance tasks which need to be done — light bulbs to change, toilets to tweak, that kind of thing. Planting season is upon us, so the garden needs to be cleaned up soon and seeds need to be started. And it's not like there is any huge task before me, like making an addition to the house. It's all little stuff, but there's a lot of little stuff. It all gets done one step at a time, like always.
Lawn mowing season is probably enough by itself to fill up nearly every weekend through May.
There's a little time left before the madness begins. There are going to be a few more cold snaps, and at least two more cold days are forecast for March — but no snow. Theoretically, there could be frost up to May 15... and once upon a time, I saw snow in May. I know the last few days are a false start — Indian Spring, if you will.
At some point in my working career, I decided I had every right to take my birthday off if I wanted to — a day just for me. My birthday is approaching, but it falls on a Sunday this year — so the day off this year is going to be the preceding Friday. Anyway, one year when I took my birthday off, I went out on the front porch that morning for a smoke — this was back when I smoked. (Both those phrases sound oddly foreign to me.) Every tree was in bloom, and the air was filled with birdsong, insects, and deep floral bliss. It was beautiful, and it was all there in my front yard. And I've not seen it again, at least not in that way, in any subsequent year.
I like to think that moment is still out there, waiting for a perfect spring day to fully express itself, and it's just a matter of everything lining up just right, much like a solar eclipse, so I can see it again. If so, I hope I'm outside to see it when it happens instead of inside changing a light bulb. Or even worse, at work.
And despite all the things which are piling up, I think it's important for me to stop and smell the proverbial flowers while working down the stack. If that can't be done, then really, what's the point of it at all?