Spring, or Something Like It

Spring 2008, photo by Whitney Martin

Yesterday it was 75 degrees and sunny, and we felt steamy as we ate coconut cream bars in the shade of the plaza. This morning we woke up to a thick blanket of snow and dime sized flakes still coming down, so we lit a fire against the 30 degree winds. A couple of hours later we were opening the windows and doors to let off some of the stifling heat that built up as the outside temperatures soared to 50 and sunny. An hour later we were shivering as the clouds covered the sky, the wind whipped the sleet at the windows, and we closed up all the windows and threw a log on the fire.

Here we are at a quarter to three and we have a small fire, a single window open, and the outside is as confused as we are. Lightening is flashing, thunder booming, our lights surge and flick out, and snow is piling up in the windows.

God, I love it here!

Really.

Quinn has swiped the novel I checked out from the library yesterday and from the looks of it is about a third of the way through it already. Nichola has built a fort between the sofa and the bookshelf, Simone snoozes her way through the afternoon, and Jeff is back and forth between the computers crowding his desk, conference calls, fencing plans and making faces at the weather because he didn't chop wood yesterday and we're out, with the promise of a chilly night.

We had leftover stew for lunch, the Dahl in the crockpot fills our house with the yummiest of smells, and I'm debating whether to venture to the cold tiles in the kitchen for a cup of honeyed tea or some chevre and apples.

It's definitely feeling like a crazy spring, but I really love the weather changing back and forth as it has been doing since fall. It's dreadful for the farmers and gardeners, as well as the wild food supply, but it eases my change-loving heart. The only season I've loved as much as this was the summer of rain in Austin. My Fibromyalgia symptoms had brought me to my knees. I couldn't walk unassisted; I was in agony, but the rain poured down endlessly making rivers of the streets. The wind and thunder ripped the sky, and I felt more peaceful, curled in my chair by the floor to ceiling windows, than I had ever before.

Are you having a "normal" spring?