Springtime in the Rockies is not for the faint of heart.
April tries all of our patience around here. We woke to 15 degrees this morning and wind blowing backwards–from the East (wind chill in the deep negatives). The good news is that we are not suffering from allergy season like the rest of humanity. The air is quite pure, being frozen as it is. I haven’t opened the blinds yet knowing that what was once deep, pretty winter snow is now ugly hunks of ice hunkering about in dirty patches. It’s hideous. And, the snow plow scraping through our pre-dawn dreams gives good indication of what I’ll see when I do push them up to the daily weather channel outside–a frosted layer on the indomitable ice chunks. Maybe I’ll check back next week to see if anything has improved.
I figure if we ignore April, she might pass on through without creating drama and leaving destruction in her wake as in years past. April, you are not my favorite. There. I said. I’m not whining, just stating fact. I intended to give you the cold shoulder, but you opened with Easter! New life, hope, new beginnings. Okay, so maybe we can engage your moody damn weather as a graced extension to finishing writing projects, maybe squeeze in one more Netflix binge, and to procrastinate on home and garden endeavors the rest of the world is now fully ensconced in. The grill is barricaded in the shed behind an ice dam.
Outdoor activities, pssh.
Against my better judgment, I put the shades up and see happy neighbors donned in ski caps, loading up the car, delighted about getting some last minute skiing in, even if they have to hike up to the ridge now that the lifts are closed. Dang it! There goes my justification for holing up another day.
I take the pillows and blankets out to air on the line. Take a lot of Antioxidants and Vit C, I have a nice pour of red wine at Happy Hour for good measure.
The house is warm and really doesn’t need a fire, but a woman’s soul does. I love fire. I stoke up the fire. I’ll soon have the temp up to 73 which mean I’ll then have to crack open the slider and open some windows. Fresh air is healthy, and fire makes April bearable when in years past, this month made me want to roll over into the grey sludge and gasp my last dying breaths. (That and my beautiful Christmas lily that was a couple months late in blooming, and also the gorgeous birthday flowers the kids had delivered.)
I’m a master fire starter now. A real pyro. I could be a Survivor even…with just the right mix of phone book pages, cardboard boxes, split kindling split paper thin, two-inch kindling, dry pine, a flue that pulls the air up, not belching out clouds of smoke that choke the fire starter.
For a kid who was too frightened to light a match, much less coax flames into a small inferno, I feel pretty good about this, yes, even after sizzling my ring finger knuckle off. If knuckles were fingerprints, I’d have to use another finger or go incognito. James bought me soft deerskin leather gloves to keep by the wood stove, but in a shorthand move to bank the fire before running out the door, I brushed the red hot glass door.
I put on my trail shoes and go for a walk to the post office and to pick up a few groceries at Heeb’s market. Big glops of snow keep plopping down on my head and down into my shirt. That’ll wake a person up! The snow is good for my knuckle. The weather is truly deplorable…until you get outside and experience the clean, cool world that is grey, bare and squishy by afternoon, but otherwise not painful like the previous couple of months.
I take a deep breath, promising myself to be fully present here. Now. What a beautiful world it is.