If you hadn’t noticed, it’s February. The weather, which has been rather mild, could change at any minute. Last week, it felt like spring and the birds went crazy. I walked to the library, ignoring my cold and determined to write while the students were gone, and the birds were a riot of noise and energy. As if they’d woken up from a long, pleasant dream to discover, holy shit! It’s spring! The alarm didn’t go off! I thought Robin was supposed to check the batteries before we battened down the twig hatches, that bastard! Precious time has been wasted!
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It’s the time of year when even when it’s warm it’s bleak. The yellow pastures know it’s not spring. They aren’t fooled. The bare trees aren’t falling for a little warm weather either. You can’t pull the wool over a 70 year old tree’s eyes. No you can’t. You can dance around in no shoes all you want but when you catch pneumonia, that tree’s gonna be the first to shake a limb at you and tsk.
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February is the bottom of the pit. The end is so far in sight that it’s just not funny. Even when there’s no snow on ground, I’m not amused. You can throw all the holidays you want at a dead month and it won’t change my mood. Not even perky spam from Calculator Online and his right hand man, Online Calcultor (clever, that!) can pick me up. Chocolate from a friend, perhaps. The right amount of alcohol.
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This is when I have to really go looking for reasons to be upbeat. Like the fact that in the winter, if the children leave the lid off the honey, no bugs will fall into the jar. All the bugs are DEAD. All the ants have fled to whereever ants go. The fruit flies are gone! The stink bugs….well, they seem to soldier on with their dusky gray armor, smacking themselves into the lamp shades in the kitchen and finding their way into Red’s room at night which freaks her out. As if she was a bird on a warm January day flapping her wings and screeching. Stink bug! Ack!
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I’ve noticed also that it’s lighter in the evening as I drive home. I am no longer navigating in pitch darkness. The sun is setting and yes, it’s right smack in my eyeballs which kind of blinds me, but it’s light. There is light. In the evening. This makes a difference. I notice and appreciate it. Thank you, sun.
It’s the best time to make some plans for the longer term and it is time to be happy.
There’s a difference in Dusty, too. She is spending more time outside. Alone. Regardless of the chill. Regardless (or maybe because of) the darkness that does eventually descend. It’s just been kind enough to wait until I pull into the driveway. More and more of her time is spent alone. I can’t really see this as bad. Lord knows it’s all I want out of life half the time. I guess my problem is that a) I am jealous and b) I miss her.
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Another thing: she no longer wants to be read to. This hurts the most. We finally finished Huck Finn and it seemed that in the end, she was just being polite, allowing me to finish, waiting for it to be done so that she could go off and do something else that did not involve me and my voice.
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I understand. I do. But it makes me sad. At least there’s Red. Jolly, in-you-face, good natured Red who has come alive in the reading area. She now loves to be read to and I wonder if I shouldn’t have had another the kid just so that I’d always have someone to read to. Pets don’t count. Pets don’t want words, they want action. As in: feed, pet, in, out!
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But no. That would be a bad idea. It’s too late for all that now. Dusty and I watch tv together. It’s what we have so I will take it.
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One day, it’ll be March. I can go back out to the garden which is a child lure, if nothing else. They will come to me and I’ll be ready. I promise not to read out loud but maybe I can get them to weed.
Hope springs eternal, yes?
Life in Scribbletown 