It’s weird how the snow melts. It reminds me of my hair; fluffy in some spots, rippled like waves running ashore in others. Some mornings all I can do with my hair is throw it in an elastic. Another old standby is the side braid. I opted for that one today.
I woke up with a heaviness in my bones, the sun, unusually unwelcome, washed the borders of my bedroom in a cheerful yellow light. Thoughts of the previous night and the tasks that waited for me made me wish to stay asleep, just a few more minutes. As I struggled to justify staying in bed it occurred to me how terrible I am at compartmentalizing my life. Nothing stands alone. Everything is everything, a reason to celebrate isn’t about the specific event at all, rather, it encompasses my very reason for being. As does a failure. 
My pink flowered gum boots make me feel like a liar but they’re all I’ve got. I detest them. I long to be barefoot, soaking up the energy of Mother Earth. Footwear makes me claustrophobic, one of my many eccentricities. I trudge through the half melted, filthy remnants of winter and am aware of the trees. They aren’t quite awake, but I can hear their dreams, another eccentricity. They are stirring in a strange state of consciousness and,like me, are trying to justify a prolonged slumber. I want them to wake up so badly. At the same time I know that their wakefulness takes them one step closer to their next winter sleep. I’m in a constant flux. I fear that one day my summer stockpiles will run out and I’ll lose my ever present battle with the Winter Bitch. She likes to test my endurance and I must say I’m losing my enthusiasm for our war. I wonder what she’d think if I called a truce and suddenly took great delight in minus 30 and three feet of snow. Maybe she’d lose interest in me and go away all together. My soul IS spring, and I’m waiting impatiently to see myself again. What will I look like this time? Will I be rain and wind? Sun and grass? Green or grey? Will I stand, barefoot in an ocean of life and growth, the amazing warmth of the sun etching happy wrinkles into the corners of my mouth and eyes? I must. I will.
But for now I dodge deteriorating piles of shit with unknown origins, trying to make it to the safety of the barn unscathed and intact.  And all the while I know…..I’m not the only one.