Come on. Come on, spring. Last night was downright cold, in the 30s. I’m still wearing flannel and sweatshirts. Spring, take your turn. It is time. 

In the front garden, a purple crocus has opened, sort of a signal that the garden will bloom despite the temperature. The dafs’ flower buds are high and have a tinge of yellow. Those signs of spring will have to do for now. 

If you heard screaming yesterday, it was my inner sloth because I did the improbable. I took everything off the top of the fridge. I don’t know what prompted that. Nobody can see the top without a step stool. The dust was over everything, thick dust, old dust. I put my tulip bowl set from the fridge top into the dishwasher. It is a set of four Fire King bowls I bought years ago. When I was a kid, my mother had a couple of the same tulip bowls. I remember the smaller one often held mashed potatoes on the dinner table. When I saw the set at an antique shop, my mother was with me. I told her that the bowls are a memory, a piece, of my childhood so I bought them. I made room for the bowls on the bookcase in my kitchen. 

When I was growing up, our vacations were mostly spent at home doing something every day or so. Sometimes we did go to Ogunquit where we stayed in a tiny cottage belonging to a family friend. The cottage was one of many small cottages in rows in a community of cottages separated by single lane dirt roads. When I was young, I enjoyed the visit. I spent time trying to catch the small fish in the warm tidal pools. I hiked through the dunes. We mostly ate burgers or hot dogs and chips. We were free to wander. When I got older, I was mostly bored. I’d sit in the car reading so I could have some peace and quiet. I sometimes wonder if the cottages are still there.

Last night it rained. The day is dark, cloudy, and damp. It will stay in the mid 40’s even tonight. Today will be a quiet day befitting a Sunday. I have no plans, no weird cleaning urges, but I will grocery shop for delivery. My larder is empty. The fridge looks abandoned. I think my inner sloth will be delighted with today. 

This entry was posted on March 30, 2025 at 1:03 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.