It's silly that I'm sort of at a loss for what to write right now. I keep telling myself that you can write about anything. ANYTHING. It doesn't really matter what. I just need some practice, so I'm forcing myself to write something.
Spring is finally acting like it might really be here. It suddenly became green on the ground (not so much in the trees), the temperatures have been hovering around 70 during the day, and we've had plenty of thunderstorms (my favorite!). One reason why I like spring is that it brings out the kid in me. Something about the plants starting anew makes me feel refreshed and free. Free to dream, free to realize that those dreams can become a reality, free to hope for things that used to seem hopeless, free to let loose and be me.
Being me usually involves random behavior, and spring has to bring that out, too. After a day of enjoying the weather, the scenery, and the smells of spring, I was walking into my apartment and I stopped in my tracks. My heart paused in that, "Omigosh-this-is-so-fabulous" sort of way... because I had just spotted something that my mind decided was a rare and welcomed find. Something my mind, in that moment, would have described as a soft, layered, honey-colored piece of sun sent from heaven to sit on a stem outside my window. Then I remembered that I proudly picked these treasures for years as a gift for my mother because she didn't have the heart to tell me that they were dandelions and that dandelions are not gorgeous gifts sent from heaven to my yard, but, instead, are ugly ol' weeds. But for a moment on Sunday, my heart stopped in excitement, and when the disappointment rushed over me after I had the urge to go pick it and remembered what it was, I at least consoled myself by reminding myself that dandelions do mean that spring truly is here, afterall.
2 comments:
Yeah, I don't think I knew they were weeds until I was about 14. We're definitely feeling spring over here...it has been in the 80's all week!
I remember being so excited about bringing baskets full of dandelions to my less than excited mother, thinking it was so wonderful that our yard was meadow full of wildflowers.
This is the wonderful thing about being a mother though, seeing it all through young eyes again. My two year old always has to stop to smell the flowers, no matter what flowers they are. More than once in the past year I've had a small vase (well, a cup) with at least one dandelion sticking out and it was the most beautiful flower all over again.
After all of that, I still can't say that we won't be spraying weed killer on our lawn this spring...
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