Are You Still Here?

I feel like it's been forever since I last blogged.

It seems as though I may be back to the land of the living...I can sometimes take a deep breath without wheezing and coughing and grasping my side as if I were dying like some dramatic, overpaid soap opera actress.

I've missed some of the spring blossoms and beauty, only aware of them peripherally as I've made myself do a few things that needed doing. 

But today, I actually have a little energy, and have marked off three things on my to do list. Yay, me.

I got excited when I saw gold finches outside the kitchen window, so black and yellow and close to the blue bird.

We got the backhoe in and cleaned up the kitchen (Daughter has been sick, too). She did laundry last night and Husband has vacuumed.

We may survive this whole thing, yet.

I've missed you and hope that I will begin a regular strange blog once again.

When it is Hard to Let Go

Husband says he thinks I'm from a different planet. Not the  male/female thing, just that I'm, well, weird.

One of the things I am weird about is the dread I feel when I think about seasons changing.

Right now I am overly fond of the well worn quilt that graces my bed. It is dark in its colors, deep ruby and navy. It serves us well all winter, looking warm and cozy and ready to keep you snug throughout the cold night. Oh! And how it feels when I slip beneath it to be wrapped in the flannel sheets underneath the quilt. Between the two is a comforter that my grandmother crocheted out of heavy wool.

I love having a fire in the fireplace, or at least the idea that I can have one anytime I want to.

I love the throws I have throughout the house, ready for use.

I want just one more snow.

Then a day like today comes along. Stepping outside I was overcome with joy. Birds calling to one another, blooms bursting forth as though they couldn't stand it one more minute. I can actually feel the heat of the sun.

And my mind turns to getting out the summer comforter, its pale and flowered presence awaiting. I think of opening windows to let a warm breeze in before it gets too hot. I think of turning on ceiling fans, and visiting greenhouses for plants - flowers and food alike.

I love watching my porches turn from dull and barren to full of color - pots of flowers and plants, cushions in the wicker, and birds nesting behind things on the shelf.

Spring will turn into summer and the windows will close, the air conditioning turned on, and when dog days show up, I ain't so misty about them. I just praise the good Lord for the cool air he allows in my home and cars.

Do I hear an amen?

It's the only time of year I truly dislike the weather in Georgia.

But that's just for a few months. You  open your door one morning to see a sudden pink in the dogwood leaves, that first hint of fall. I feel anticipation returning, anxious for the splendid job God does every autumn.

I may dread the change, but once it occurs I embrace it: whether it's to shed winter, say good-bye to spring, or say hello to fall.

Maybe I'm  not so weird after all.