Home   |   LCS Prints Store   |   About Me   |   FAQ   

Monday, March 28, 2011

Signs

The calendar says spring; but where we live, the hourglass sifts the remains of winter. We light a cinnamon-scented candle, start a crackling fire; eat a hearty dinner and finish it off with a filling Apple Brown Betty.

But the clues exist. In the back yard, green shoots push through the earth—tulip bulbs, planted too deep. They never bloom but thrust their pointers to remind me of what could have been, what can be, although the early morning thermometer reads 29 degrees and in spite of gloves my fingers go numb on my way to the grocery store.

Sunday, smoke wafted across the street from the brush my husband burned—wagon-loads of broom branches; supple pine and hard oak yanked off by scouring winds over the last three months. Earlier, he took the tarp off the sailboat. He stores it elsewhere, so I didn’t see; but could imagine the unveiling, green plastic lifting on the stiff breeze, rising up like a billowing flag heralding the spring work to come—yard clean-up and planting, painting the boat bottom, washing and waxing and compounding.

Less than two months until the phlox riots pink and purple over the granite slabs in the back garden; until tomato seedlings sway in ceramic pots, until the boat parts the waters and ripples her way to the mooring. Sooner then that, I’ll sit in an open spot on the back stoop with my eyes closed and wait for my body to come back to me. There the sun will infuse my skin, spread tentacles of warmth and finger its way down deep to melt the frozen core.

15 comments:

Jan Morrison said...

Liza, I fear I don't tell you this enough. I love your writing! I love it. It is elegaic - the rhythm so perfect - all the senses called forth. Thank you.

glnroz said...

you paint a picture of a budding Spring. Thank you for you comment and suggestions.(in case my note didnt make it through the email.) glenn

Bish Denham said...

Ahh sweet spring. I can see it. Here the trees are budding out, but our wildflowers I fear will not be so abundant. Not enough rain.

Sharon said...

Ah, Liza, your gift radiates in this beautiful essay.

Robyn Campbell said...

Liza, so lovely, so lovely. Thank you. I loved reading. :)

Spring was here but now it is gone. Rain and cold have come back. Brrrr

Oh well, I can still see my daffodils from the windows and the forsythias too. :)

EmptyNester said...

What a beautifully visual post! We a cold today--it's only going up to 53 and it's rainy/stormy. It's cold to us because it's been in the 70s and 80s for weeks now!

Wine and Words said...

Would be good to be warm again! To feel rosey from the sun, not the chill. Hopefully soon!

jbchicoine said...

Still inches of snow here...can't wait to get out and play in the yard--you make it sound soooo inviting :)

Janna Qualman said...

Beautiful! I'm ready for spring, too, especially after you talk about it in such a lovely way.

E.J. Wesley said...

Beautiful words!

Here in South Texas, Spring is most definitely in full-swing. (The bluebonnets are popping up everywhere!)

Tabitha Bird said...

YAY for you guys! SPRING>

We on the other hand are preparing for winter. Not that it get that cold here.

Catherine A. Winn said...

Loved this post and the way you wrote it. Here we have been into spring for a while now. We didn't really have a winter, so I'm kind of envious.

Talei said...

Okay, you got me at 'Apple Brown Betty'! - Is it a pie? *sniffs* Whatever it is, I want some! ;-)

Stephen Tremp said...

Somebody's sick of winter .... our rainy season seems to be over, so we'll enjoy the greenery as we will enter 7-8 months of no rain and everything turn brown.

Carolina Valdez Miller said...

You paint the most beautiful images, Liza. So vivid. I could get lost in one of your books. Please hurry and write one!

It's so cold here, too. But the signs of Spring give me hope. I just wrap myself in a blanket and wait.