“Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.”
– Elizabeth Bowen
I’m not looking for something more, or something dramatically better, just please – something else. I don’t want to see the tip-tip top of a rose bush’s dry crumbled leaves poking out of three feet of banked snow. Give me teeny green buds of hope and promise.
I’ve had enough of the orange electrical cord stretched across the front yard to the car, whose battery was fine eight months ago, but is as worn away by the freezing weather as we are now. Give me a line of trickling water running from the eaves to the drainpipe outside our bedroom window and down to the street. The drip-drip sound will delight me now, rather than annoy me.
I’ve had enough of heating the car for a quick excursion because I can’t bear to sit my butt one more time on flipp’in seats like blocks of ice, and gingerly hold the steering wheel with four fingers less I frost bite my hands gripping it. Give me sunshine and puddles and I will dance through them walking to the nearest grocery for milk and eggs.
Don’t make me wear my heavy wool coat one more time, or lose another glove, or wipe salt stains from my sturdy winter boots. Let me don a carefree sweater against a soft spring breeze, a skirt swirling about my winter white legs, bare feet inside a pair of flats that expose the tops of my feet.
I don’t want to shovel the walks anymore. I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I will prematurely rake the brown grass. I will giddily push the lawn mower and drink the scent of cutting the fresh new lawn. I will plant sweet peas in the wet soil and lovingly dig holes to push glad bulbs into.
Please mother nature. Please.