Oh, pickles!

Should be outside right now. Should be enjoying the fact that it is 65 degrees and sunny; an utterly clear, blue sky. Birds are chirping. After a day or so of steady rain, we’ve seen a shift from spring-chartreuse-green to standard-landscape-of-green. It’s been such a long time coming, an awful winter that seemed to have no end. But here we are and this is it, right? 65 and sunny. It doesn’t get better, right?

So I’d spent my winter thinking… a lot. Agonizing… a lot. Obsessing, analyzing. List-making. Idea-generating. Should I do this, pursue that, work here, settle there? And I expected that, on the flip-side, I’d have half a clue about what it is I’m really supposed to be doing. If not a purpose or a calling or discovery of amazing and valuable hidden talent, perhaps I thought I’d have somewhat more of a focus or direction. And here I am, and it’s 65 and sunny and things are green and the birds are chirping and I’m not sure whether here, on the flip-side, I have any more of an idea about those things than I did before. 

The good news is that it is, without a doubt, 65 and sunny, and I can (at least) be a little hopeless in a more friendly environment. I can feel unfulfilled during a long woodsy walk with Olly; I can agonize about job-searching in a miserable economy or whether to pursue “my own thing (whatever-that-may-be)” while I’m outdoors pulling weeds, or I can become totally frustrated about my limitations… while driving with windows down.

I am certain it is nicer outside, and I am certain that not a day goes by that I don’t appreciate something or someone beautiful… thank heavens for the tiny lavender wildflowers in the grass fields… or cheery myrtle blooms… or fluffballs of lilac that brighten the day and put things in better perspective. That from under the miserable snow and ice and blanket of grey that covered for so long came these beautiful little blooms and such vibrant and radiant color.