100 happy days :: day 31

we woke up to snow on the last day of march. almost more snow than we had all winter. i'm not sure molly liked it, but it was (mostly because it melted quickly) quite welcome, since we didn't really have much all winter. a blanket of snow does have a way of making the world look clean and fresh. and tomorrow? a bit of shopping in hamburg to look forward to.

winter's last gasp (or too little too late)

so, we woke up to this. heavy, wet, springlike snow, falling in more quantity than it's bothered to do all winter long. but it's already melting and it feels like the last gasp of winter. we'll be back in the garden soon, i'm sure of it.

spring equinox: but where is spring?

they've been promisng us snow for days. ominous warnings of meters and meters of snow. today, we finally got a light sprinkling that covers the erantis and the crocus and the snowdrops, but also the grey. but today, the day of the equinox is actually the first day of spring. so it can hurry up and come now as far as i'm concerned. i'm ready already.

winter's last gasp

when i looked out the window this morning at a world covered in white, i exclaimed, "that is total crap!" but i couldn't hold onto that feeling when i stepped outside to do animal chores. the landscape is transformed, clean, beautiful, softer somehow. the air was still, sounds dampened, it was magical.

the chickens run around, lifting their feet as if they're trying out monty python's silly walks.

this little hen is taking a break from sitting on her nest of 16 eggs to bathe in the fresh, clean snow and survey the world.

she's queen of the little rabbit houses husband built so there could eventually be a little rabbit street (oddly, we've never put them into use).

lurking below the fluffy, white surfaces, fat buds, waiting to burst forth.

despite the snow, spring is in the air and the air is full of freshness and that pre-coital bird chatter that happens only in the spring.

even frankie frolicked and attacked falling bits of snow here and there, enjoying himself before coming in to warm his feet and have a morning nap.

the fruit bushes and the garden may be covered with snow right now, but it's fleeting and it won't be long before the bushes burst forth with leaves and blossoms and we begin to work in the garden. the green hope hangs in the very air, still, breathless, waiting quietly beneath the snow, secure that its moment is coming.

the bees are still tucked in, but their work will begin soon as well.

it may be winter's last gasp, but spring is definitely in the air.

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map lovers, check out this.

april snow

i was so dismayed yesterday as i drove into a small patch of snow flurries, just as i got near our new house. i was going to pick up the keys and drop off a few things. it seemed like a bad omen, that snow.

the house, now empty, seems forlorn. and i had another of those awful moments of the Enormity of the Project. since the first look at this house, we've been looking beyond what's there and concentrating on what we see in our minds - focusing on the potential and not the reality. but now that it's empty that reality is even more stark - sagging wallpaper, greying paint on the walls, low ceilings, the most awful silly putty color of paint on the kitchen cupboards (seriously unappetizing), i could go on and on. we have a five-year-plan for what we want to do with it, but five years is five years and we will live in it in the meantime. and that's just how it is.

but even more overwhelming was a sense of sorrow hanging over the house. the family we're buying it from is moving because their dreams and hopes didn't turn out as they planned and it had become a place they associated with those broken dreams. although i know this doesn't mean it will be a sorrowful place for us, that sadness is hanging there in the air. and it was very nearly physically palpable yesterday when i stopped by in the sudden snowstorm. 

i can tell you that next week, although we're not going to paint and fix everything (those pink cupboards have got to go), i can't wait to open all of the windows and let in fresh air and sunshine. fresh air and sunshine should go a long way towards chasing the sadness away, but some friends have suggested a ceremonial exorcism cleansing and i may actually have to do something along those lines. we have to chase out the previous sadness and replace it with our energy and happiness. and while i feel confident we can do that, things were looking a little blurry there for awhile in yesterday's april snow.