Spring Has Been Rearing Her Mucky Head

Her fresh, sweet air, happy bird song, warm, cloud- skuttling- across- blue sky breezes head.

And I must confess that it's stirring me up.

Not necessarily in good ways.

The Changing of the Seasons have always been my "itchy foot" times of year. My "we should go look at that house", "let's fly to Europe", "which room can we paint?", "where shall I plant the apple trees?" times of year.

Spring and Fall, generally.

My last change of seasons was spent moving to The Field and unpacking.

So, if I felt a little depressed by the coming of winter it sort of got smooshed into all the other depressions that go along with changing houses and jobs and cities and provinces and cars, and having another child move away.

And so comes Spring.

Taunting me with her nearness. Her sweet perfume wafting around me as she dances just close enough to tantalize; wrapped in the sheerest of wispy clouds not quite within reach.

And with it has come again, a wave of sadness.

I suppose it is the same with any grief. This will be the year of "firsts".

This is my first Spring in The Field, which, in itself, is not a bad thing.

The sad thing is being reminded of last year's Spring.

On a day like yesterday I might have made up an excuse to walk over to the Cornerstone Shopping complex. Maybe we'd be out of milk. Maybe I'd decide we needed toothpaste. Any excuse to go out.

And then I would have poked around at Value Village a bit and checked out my size for anything new at the Payless Shoe store. I'd have made my way to Sobeys and picked up a few things and walked them home again.

Or I might have taken myself to the library and lost an hour among the books.

I missed, yesterday, the nearness of my community. I think that's the hardest thing to get used to.

People ask how I'm doing. How am I liking The Field.

And honestly, I'm doing alright. I DO like The Field.

The thing is getting used to going places. Everywhere you go, anything you want to do becomes a big deal. Every place is a destination.

And I'll get used to it.

And I'm looking forward to Spring in The Field.

I love the sounds and smells. It's taking me back to places before my recent past- staying at Grandma and Grandpa's farm during Easter Break... the first day we were allowed to take our bikes out to go roaring around the subdivision... the bush and forest we'd explore, living way out of town as we did...

So, don't worry about me. I'll be fine.

I'm just sorting through the change of seasons stuff.

And if I look a little windblown and breathless, don't be concerned.

I've probably just been out dancing with Spring under the stars.