I sit huddled over my laptop for warmth in my room in this cold house. The lappy generates a fair amount of warmth once placed on my lap. Why this is important…?…I know it’s not, but this post has to start somewhere.
I have a tendency to forget that I am writing here primarily for myself. I don’t have any expectations that people will be checking in to view my thoughts and random insights. I don’t have enough continuity in my posting to be any sort of a draw at present.
I just deleted a paragraph or so I started writing about work. I don’t want to write about work. At least not right now. Work will resume shortly enough.
I’ve been taking a lot of pictures with my cell phone lately as I go about my day. The trees on campus have been blossoming in profusion and the sky has been just the right shade of moody deep blue, or explosion of cloud, to make for great lighting and backdrop. My phone has been very handy for that. It’s easier than a camera- especially since I don’t own a small enough digital camera to carry about.
There’s something wistful and gentle about Spring. The newness of growth and the changefulness of the weather. I’ve enjoyed watching the alterations shifting from day to day and I’ve been trying to savor the moments because I know that summer will soon come. I can hardly bear the summers here, though I’ve been through them all my life. I’ve fallen out of love with them. I prefer crisp air and moody weather. But my preference hardly matters. 🙂 The seasons will take their course all the same.
The new blossoms and verdant grass reminds me of the birth of poetry and how so many poets wrote of spring and its renewal.
This tree, to the left, reminds me of a tree in my grandmother’s yard. I think it was called a snowball tree because the blossoms clumped in big balls like popcorn or snow. This was my father’s mom. My father’s parents had a ranch/farm. I’m not sure which it was. At one time they had cows and pigs and geese and a barn. It seems idyllic to me now. It was so long ago. Both of my father’s parents have died and I was a new teenager the last time I was there. I remember the big back yard and the stream that cut across the property. I remember the strawberry plants and the grapevines and the pomegranate tree. I remember how grandma, later on, had too many stray cats to take care of and too many geese. I remember big Easter celebrations with the whole family – like a massive reunion. My grandparents were the unifying force. After they were gone, an aunt tried to carry on the tradition at a small ranch her family bought, but it was never the same. I’d like to drive out there again someday, to see what the current owners have done to the property. I’d like to visit the old ghosts of my childhood reminiscence and all the places I wandered in the dappled sun.
On a totally different tangent, I’m excited to start reading for the new subversive book club I’ve joined. I’m hoping the challenge to read will keep me accountable and motivated. With all the chaos and insanity of life at both jobs, I tend to zone out when I get home and finally have time to myself. As a result, I don’t pursue many of my passions. Instead, I watch a movie or pour through my tumblr feed or sample bits from different books, never focusing on any one thing for long.
Just for fun, the book I will be reading is Boneshaker by Cherie Priest. It should be very entertaining- steampunk, zombies, airships… all great resources for a rollicking adventure. 🙂
If I could only appease my restless spirit…