I didn't once think of the vacuuming not getting done or laundry not being washed or even making dinner on time. The hour upon hour outside, adding up to many (7!), smoothed out the raw, rough edges of a very difficult Monday. Tuesday, instead, was a continual sigh of remembering how glorious fresh spring air can be. Darn you winter for layering on forgetfulness. Or thank you.
Toys, chalk, bikes spilled out of the garage, as if in a big yawn, awaking from winter. Squeals of play echoed about the neighborhood as kids gathered in short sleeves. Mud was sloshed, stubborn ice broken apart with baseball bats and golf clubs were swung at remaining piles of snow. Gardening tools were handled, and handfuls of pachysandra was pulled up to show lovely hardscaping underneath.
Party hats for sure.
This morning the whir of the washing machine is our background music, I am noticing floors in need of sweeping. This morning it is raining, and we are waiting for the wintry mix that portends the big storm to come. A foot of snow, they say. We'll see.
In the meantime I am remembering yesterday.
