Spring Cleaning

This made me laugh. It's practically a picture of me.

For the longest time, autumn was my favorite season. The crispness in the air, the glory of the changing colors, the hint of frost after several months of sweltering heat - what's not to love? I'll always love autumn.

But in the last couple of years, I've developed a new appreciation for spring. Perhaps it's because the cold dark of winter wears on me more now than when I was younger. In any case, the warmth and promise of spring are my new favorite season. After months of 7 am sunset and 5 pm sunset, I'm beyond thrilled to see dawn breaking on my way to work (around 5:45; I'm an early bird). I love the blooming flowers and the pink and white flowered trees and the pale buds of new leaves. I love the sky darkening with a storm that gives rain instead of snow, and washing past to leave the air clean and fresh and electric.

Of course, when it comes to the house and yard, spring equals work. So much work. I've spent about twelve hours over the last two weekends getting the lawn mowed and trimmed, weeded and fertilized; pulling weeds and reestablishing the rock borders of garden beds; turning over the vegetable garden to prep the soil with compost for the coming season; laying fresh mulch; and of course, the fun projects of adding a couple new plants. There's the brunnera with tiny blue flowers for the shady spot by the window wells, and the pretty red barberry that I put next to the fence in what was previously a patch of weeds. (Shout out to the Man-Friend for hacking into the stony earth and getting that hole dug for me...or, as he put it, "digging up your sidewalk.")

The weird thing about spring is that even though it's exhausting - and this is just the outdoor work; I'll spend at least a few more weekends pulling down knickknacks for their yearly cleaning, clearing out the dust bunnies from underneath all the furniture, and reorganizing the garage from a winter's worth of accumulated junk.

And yet I love it. I embrace it. I become lost in the work and can't stop until I've completed a task, even when my arms are shaking from the vibration of the weed-whacker and my knees ache from kneeling in the dirt and I'm scratched up from trimming the rose bushes. I can be out there for hours at a time and never really get sick of it; sheer exhaustion and the realization that I'm getting sunburned is usually what drives me back inside. Housework certainly doesn't have this motivating effect on me.

No, it's nature. It's the earth under my hands, the wind whipping across my shoulders, the mist of approaching rain as I continue on, determined not to stop until the rain drives me inside.

I have a magic circle in the front  yard. Technically it's an oval, but I used four sidewalk lanterns to mark the cardinal directions, and the more I look at it, it's the perfect space for an outdoor ritual. I'm not sure exactly what I'll do with it, but it's my favorite kind of summer project.

The wheel turns! And I think to myself...what a wonderful world...