Today couldn’t have been more unlike Monday a week ago, when I wrote about wanting to go out and work in my gardens. I had spring fever in the worst way! And really, most of last week was lovely; I got a good start on the many chores that need done out there.
Then came the weekend. Gray, breezy and very chilly all day Saturday, then the high winds and rain pelted down most of the day yesterday. Last night it snowed for a while, then blew and rained some more. This morning, it was cold and overcast, but dry. That lasted until about 10 this morning, when the rain and wind started all over again.
And at 4 this afternoon, more wet snow, though it only lasted an hour or so. Huge,
fat, clumpy flakes that came down and coated the springy green of the world once again. The weatherheads are saying the storms are moving east; we’ll have some more rain/snow tonight, and then tomorrow is supposed to be clear, cool and sunny.
As I cuddle deeper into my layers of clothing (I just took my fleece jacket out of the dryer and put it on; ohhh man that feels good!) and readjust the space heater down by my feet, I hope they’re right. My hands and wrists don’t appreciate all this climatic upheaval. They’re twingy and intensely achy. They complain as I type; as I hold Finny’s leash for quick walks; as I made a casserole for supper and emptied the dishwasher. I decided a month or so back I would get some light-weight dishes; tonight I was reminded why, again, I want to do that. My pretty Japanese stoneware, a birthday gift from Mr Wren and my folks five years ago, is just plain too heavy; when my hands are like this, lifting a single dish becomes a swear-worthy event.
Yes, I could have asked for help. But I didn’t want to, you know? I’m good at telling others to be mindful and not to be embarrassed or humiliated when simple chores turn ugly and painful, but I’m not so good at following my own advice.
On the bright side, I’m listening to the Stellar’s jays scream at each other in the tall
evergreens and a little bit ago, I saw the first black-headed grosbeak of the season at the feeder outside the kitchen window. I wasn’t quick enough with my camera to get a photo of him, but he was lovely, his bright feathers a startling contrast against the snow. Every spring two pairs of them come to visit, and a few weeks after they arrive, the evening grosbeak couple shows up, too. None of them stay for long, but it’s always a joy to see them.
Update: Now my little wren buddy is singing, even though it’s raining. They have the prettiest song! I don’t know about you, but I’m still surprised each evening when it’s still light after 7 p.m. …