The Tedious Delight of Anticipation

It showered last night -- not quite enough to measure, but enough to transform soil into mud and thereby rewrite my task list for the day.  It isn't really any loss.  There isn't that much to do in this season of suspended animation.  It's not that there is nothing to do.  That is never quite the case in the midst of brush that always needs cutting somewhere, limbs that always need stacking or chipping, and miscellaneous chores that I only discover by tripping over their overdue-ness.  But the garden is largely readied and waiting for the more reliable days of spring, watering in the greenhouse only requires a few minutes, and the chickens were tended for the day shortly after dawn.  I don't quite know whether to relish the relative calm, or chaff with anticipatory impatience.

It is that in-between time, when those proverbial April showers are foreshadowing May flowers, but in the present tense are just creating a mess.  The "almost" but "not quite yet." 

My guess is that nobody loves this square on the game board.  We'd rather be passing "Go" and collecting $200.  We'd rather be building houses or hotels or rolling the dice.  We'd rather be moving or reclining, anything but standing in one place on tiptoes.  We can see from this position what's ahead, but can neither quite touch or taste it.  In this climate it's too early -- or at least too risky -- to plant.  We've had just enough Mother's Day snows to make us cautious.  But on days like this, with the morning sun shining and the forecast in the 70's, it's tempting.

But I'll resist, and resign myself to mere salivation.  On the bright side, there are no weeds yet to pull and no bugs to battle; no vines to trellis or irrigation to meter or grass to grow.  There is only...

buds to watch break...
blooms to watch open...
leaves to watch emerge...
birds to hear sing...
and a world to watch shake from itself the last of winter's dormancy, inhale a deep breath, and beckon the full vigor of spring.

I'm sure the power trimmer could use some seasonal attention, and the barn could use some seasonal rearranging.  I've dreamed up some helpful stepping stone improvements behind the solar panels where I intend to move the feed and daily supplies, and there will be eggs to gather later in the day.

But in the meantime, I think I will take a damp walk around -- never mind the mud -- and take a deep and stretching breath of my own.

In delight, and anticipation.