Posted tagged ‘snow drops’

“Know the rules well, so you can break them effectively.”

February 22, 2016

I saw them this morning right beside the front steps. My snowdrops, the first real stirrings of spring, have bloomed. Those tiny white flowers have endured snow, below zero temperatures and freezing rain. They are my heroes of spring flowers. They bring hope and joy. Seeing them made me almost giddy. Today is a good day.

The sun is bright but the chilly breeze makes it sweatshirt cold. I have a few stops including the hardware store, not often on my list, and Agway for cat food and litter, two boring places for shopping. I just can’t get excited about nails or screws or wire. As for Agway, they have flowers come spring which redeem the other parts of the store, the boring parts.

I always used to wonder what was under the headpieces the nuns wore. I thought nuns were bald until once I saw a tiny bit of hair from under a coif. I never understood why their outfits were called habits and why most of their habits were black and white, even their thick stockings were black. When my aunt the nun didn’t have to wear a habit any more, she dressed in normal clothes. She also had the worst taste in clothing. I suspect it was because of decades of wearing her habit and not having to choose what to wear or how to accessorize.

Nuns in habits were a bit scary looking when I was young. Most weren’t mean but the habits made them look as if they had the ability to be. A glaring, burning look was all a nun needed for discipline. It wasn’t until I was in the eighth grade that I heard one yell. She was Sister Hildegarde, a legend among us. Even now we all still remember Sister Hildegarde and each of us has a favorite story. I liked her because she was oblivious. I left school during the day, but I always asked permission. She always gave it and never once asked a question about where I was going. I’d just tell her I had to leave but I’d be back. I’d wander around the square, go to the library or have a picnic near the benches at the town hall. I’d mosey back to school after an hour or more of freedom. She’d nod at me to acknowledge my return when I came in and sat down. Usually my friend Jimmy was with me. He took the same delight I did in skirting the line. Nobody else ever came with us. I don’t think they had the same sense of adventure we did or maybe they were just a bit scared. We did it for the fun of it.