Open door

This morning I spotted an awful lot of front doors propped open all along the shopping strip near my home. It's a gorgeous day out and of course, I'm sure everybody's trying to lure in Easter shoppers, but it also struck me that we're in that never-never land of early spring:

Fresh enough to want that good air inside the store

Cool enough not to lose air conditioning outside the store

This time of year and the fall are my favourites, and not just because I enjoy showing off a good cardigan (which I don't have at the moment, but we won't go there.)

Spring especially is a time when people are just so happy to have what they have, and so welcoming of what's to come. How often can you say that?

Plus: imminent chocolate. Everybody wins!

The last frontier

June 4th is like the edge of a cliff to me, because if I haven't taken and passed a road test by then my driver's license expires entirely and I have to go back to driving with a friend until I can take the test again. Thank you graduated licensing system and also, me, for not just getting this stuff taken care of when I was 16 or even driving as much as once a month over the past year or two.

(I'd rather walk.)

To take the test I have to book one, and to book one I have to call my driving school friend and get some new lessons in. I've put up a few speedbumps on the calendar to make me stop and do this and all I've done is slow down and panic. But let's be serious:

This weekend is Easter.

If I can't make the call in the week that follows Easter, I am in real trouble.

But if I make the call and don't get out driving a lot I am also in trouble because my driving instructor is going to put me on the highway as fast as it takes to get there from my house and I will probably have a heart attack from the shock. So....

This week is all about not procrastinating. I gotta clear the slate of all distractions!

And that means finishing making some stuff for a gift swap, starting making some Easter decorations, knitting more sweater for a friend's book, and maybe using the vacuum cleaner, all before Monday.

Plus maybe coming up with a few more plausible excuses for not driving. You think?

Just add water

Right in the midst of a few rainy, grey days, some people I know went to a plant nursery and brought me some instant spring:


I didn't realize how bleh a rainy yard could be until these showed up for the contrast. Now I'm watching to see whether the nursery stock manages to retain its enthusiasm, or the home plants spruce themselves up to match... I'm betting on the latter, not least because there seem to be a few strawberry leaves unfolding in there.

Fallow

I got to thinking last night how much my life has changed in the past year - some sudden shifts that shocked, and some others that crept quietly through the undergrowth and produced a subtle sense of unease until they stepped out in front of me.

That kind of upheaval happens everywhere, even in the economy and the environment, and it seems to me to be cyclical. I've had up to 15 years of a comfortable routine, before some critical component is yanked away and I have to replace it or adapt to getting along without it.

Some people even seek that experience, giving up their jobs to travel or teach a second language in a foreign country.

What I want to know is, how many of us are able to write about it while it's happening?

Because I don't seem to be able to do it. Before this round, I was finally capturing the essence of things I witnessed twenty years ago or more; it seems to take a long time for ideas to filter down to my fingers.

Well, I guess it's better than having no filter at all! and there are worse things, aren't there, than not writing. (hard as that is to believe, some days.)

Stripes

I looked outside the other day and saw this:


Had somebody painted the driveway?


Sort of. It's sun pouring through the slats of my fence.


I still find this amazing, and so, so beautiful.

Learning: it's a process

I got thinking yesterday that I should really do a regular series of posts on what I've learned about life since last week, because I'm recognizing at last that any sense of normalcy in how one lives it from one day to the next is pure coincidence. At best, you're going to end up with 'the new normal' every few weeks or months when the next disaster, or should I say opportunity?, strikes.

Then I realized the posts would be full of things like, "Chocolate: best not gorged upon, no matter how stressful the day."

How do I know?

Because my first idea was this:

"Pre-made Rice Krispie Squares: pay more for the smaller box; it's safer than buying an economy case of 40."

(it really is safer, though.)

The boxes of spring

My life has been consumed by boxes lately: for me, spring cleaning means massive reorganization of all the stuff I got interested in over the past winter. Or just of stuff.

Last week, for example, I cut the top 1/2" off an empty tissue box so it would fit in a desk drawer and corral a bunch of pens and staplers and (wowza!) the calligraphy nibs I spent so much time practising with as a teen.

Seems almost comical by comparison to consider these monsters, purchased as catch-alls to fit under a glorified coffee table:


They're not exactly pretty, are they. I wonder if a cotton liner would dress them up?


I mean, if it can work for a wicker basket (or three, none of which I have a use for, but which look better on the mantelpiece than the odds and ends that usually accumulate there.)

Spring always prompts another look at this little box too, and a solid round of thinking how to press it into everyday use:


It's very special, this wooden box painted so badly with model airplane paint, my family name scrawled inside the lid by my late brother. He used it to keep track of the characters he was memorizing when he learned Chinese. I've tried keeping a few different things in it but nothing that sticks to my daily routine. Maybe I should use it to store a stash of chocolate, and keep it at my desk?

Ah, chocolate. That reminds me of this currently most important box:


Okay, I'll be honest - it's not the box. It's the cakes. How come all the best stuff comes in the smallest packages, anyway?