Alright, I know this isn’t going to last. This sunshine thing streaming in the window? Not for us. Not yet. We don’t get to keep it. I know that. You know that. You’d think the birds and the trees would know it too. We go through this every year at this time. False spring. In essence, California is faking it.
Really, I’m not even ready for it. I’ve got a porpoise wrap blocking (yes! blocking! done!) in the back room, for crying out loud, and the weather better at least let me wear it once before it goes all springy and optimistic on me.
And we need the rain, blah, blah, blah, etc...
But... Isn’t it glorious?
On Saturday, I actually sat outside and knit. We had the windows open all weekend. Kids were outside throwing around balls of all shapes and sizes. Someone turned the street sign on the corner into a tetherball pole. It was all I could do to resist the temptation of asking my seven-year-old neighbors if I could play. I’m wearing a t-shirt right now. One thin little t-shirt. There’s a bush outside my office covered in big obnoxious pink flowers. I looked at the pink buds with tempered longing for three days before I yielded. I grabbed a pair of paper scissors out of my pencil cup, marched outside, snipped a big blossom off the bush and planted it in my hair.
It’s fake spring, but it’s spring.
I’ll take it.
And I know I don’t get to keep it. The rain and the wind are due back on Friday. Those little buds on the tree out front are going to blow right off and the tree will have to start all over again. The daffodils are going to look around at their less hardy counterparts and laugh their asses off when all those delicate flowers get shredded in the next storm. “Go back into the ground, losers, and wait your turn.”
We all know.
But for one brief shiny-shiny, it feels good to be outside photosynthesizing again.