I spend a lot of time looking out the window. Sometimes I stare. I like to think I’m taking stock of the growing season to come. I envision fully grown beds. I picture the snow melting into heaps of leaves I piled 6-8 inches thick onto them. I imagine the leaves getting wet, and warming and beginning to break down into the rich soil that will feed the plants. I imagine bugs starting to stir. I picture things coming to life.
I focus on a spot covered in snow. Monday it was the roof of the shed, Tuesday the roof of the garage. Wednesday the roof of the neighbor’s carriage house. When the snow is completely melted from that section I move on. It feels as though I am willing spring to come. Last year I needed to take time lapse photographs of the snow in order to see that it was melting. This year, I walk in it. Tuesday I went out to the apple trees to prune off the suckers. The snow was only up to my ankles in some places, but the tall drifts were high up on my shins. Wednesday when I went back out to finish the job the highest snow mounds were only as tall as my lower shins. We are making progress.
I stood in the crooks of apple tree branches, hanging on for dear life when the winds whipped up. Sometimes I got myself in precarious situations, shimmying up a trunk and out on to a sturdy limb to get the highest growing suckers. When it was time to get back down I wasn’t quite sure how I’d gotten there in the first place. Such is the art of being in flow. You are so present in the Nowness of your activity that you do not think, you just do. It takes you to places you wouldn’t normally go. Questioning yourself in the middle of flow feels like the Wile E. Coyote when he realizes he is running in mid air. If only he hadn’t noticed, imagine how much further he would go!
I didn’t even notice it when I busted my finger on a branch. I just noticed I was bleeding. But most likely that was because of the cold. I hope that’s how it felt to the fisher when he got hit by a car. And the beaver, and the indistinguishable pile of fur and guts on the side of the road. We’re all a little discombobulated, but OH THE SUN! Its pull is undeniable.
PS I can’t think of anything more optimistic than storing bulbs in your garage in January and forcing them in February. Thanks to my mom I am enjoying spring right now.