A Mad Break for Spring

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Thursday the fifth.

Yesterday marked the first full day of my spring break.

The weather has been decidedly kismet.  After weeks of on and off blizzard cold, last week we had a proper snow day, a storm that made the city quiet and the day pleasant, and now, today, the temperatures are approaching something vernal.  The snow will be gone by the end of the week, my gate might even thaw enough to open, though that’s expecting a lot.  I’ve started some seeds and mean to start many more.  I feel as though I can sense spring’s approach.

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Saturday the seventh.

This is the first winter I can recall wanting to end.  I am fond of snow and of the cold.  I like the quiet pleasantry of necessitated indoor time.  I like all four seasons as they make each other one special by their differences.  Fall is my favorite, the culmination of the harvest, that event marking the physical proof of prodigious growth.  Spring is second, the beginning of the green times.  I like summer least, despite all the floral growth.  I’m ill suited for heat.  Winter is a time of rest, a time of contemplation.  Perhaps that’s why I didn’t enjoy it this year, I’ve had no method for reflection, no sense of escape from disquiet.  I’ve had the same feeling from this season I get from meditation when I can’t clear my mind.  I grow frustrated and want only for it to end so that I can do something productive.  If I can’t achieve inner peace let me get better at hitting people, at least.  With winter, that feeling is long, not five minutes sat on the floor uncomfortable and bored, but weeks pervaded by a sense of ill ease.  Now it’s ending.

I have much to do but I am optimistic.  Perhaps that is the caffeine and theobromine doses playing about in my skull, but I have some reason beyond the changing weather and chemical stimulation to think things to come might be pleasant.  I was offered an interview for the state park at which I most want to work.  I was offered an interview once before and was told, at my telephone inquiry after two weeks of hearing nothing, that the job had been filled.  So I know not to expect.  I try never to expect.  But working there is now a possibility, and that in and of itself is pleasant to think on. There may be more available from the future than merely the passage of time.

Tomorrow: The Philadelphia Flower Show, gardening plans, and writing excerpts.

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