Then There’s The Tax Return

It’s March 17th and I am gazing out the window in disbelief as I watch big, fat, fluffy flakes of snow swirling past.  I don’t care if the menopausal Mother Nature is trying to convince us of something different – Spring has definitely sprung in Seattle.  Despite the snow, hail & torrential rain of this last few weeks, there’s sure signs that warmer weather is on it’s way.

For one, Daisy has been packing away her winter coat.  By “packing away” I really mean she’s been dropping clumps of white, downy fluff all over the house.  Spring, I’ll have you know, is the only time Daisy does this.  And, as she does so, the radius of her neckage decreases dramatically.  From this…  Daisy sporting her winter coat

…to something more acceptable.  Something more graceful, more refined & more cat-like.  Daisy spends the winters looking like a rather odd-colored lion.  At this very moment she looks a little wonky.  Lopsided.  There’s some pieces of fluff, still half attached, poised & ready to launch themsleves into the air when Daisy does her next mad dash for the kitchen.  Then that fluff will float gently down to join all the other fluff bunnies that have yet to be hoovered up.  There doesn’t seem a whole lot of point in hoovering right now.  As fast as I vacuum, more fluff bunnies appear, since Daisy crams all her shedding into one month a year.  And frankly, Daisy is thrilled to be throwing off her winter wear.  She likes lapping her water without getting her neck fur all soggy.  She likes licking her fur without getting her tongue in a tangle.  She likes seeing her paws again.  Yes, Spring is coming.

Daisy in her summer wear.

Then there’s The Tax Return.  That always heralds the arrival of Spring.  After procrastinating for 75 days in a row, I. FILED. MY. TAXES.  This morning!  And it’s still March!!  And I didn’t have to send Uncle Sam a check this year!!!  I have papers strewn from one end of the office floor to the other.  But they are in orderly piles now,  instead of one large, unwieldy heap threatening to topple over and cascade across the carpet at any moment.  Bills in one pile, receipts in another, medical in one corner, bank statements across the way.  It’s all there.  I’ll box it, label it & stash it away – the last dredges of 2011 filed and fettered.  Hurrah!

Last weekend we turned the clocks forward.  While this doesn’t normally phase me, it snuck up on me, from behind, and swiftly kicked my butt.  I’ve been chasing after that missing hour all week.  The upside is that I am already in love with the longer evenings.  I know it’s just in my mind, but I feel like I have more time every day in the summer.

For another thing, there’s green things a-happening in my yard.  Right outside my kitchen window Clematis are bursting forth all over.  Rose bushes sending forth bright green leaves on long, skinny branches.  I suspect I am meant to prune, but it’s so hard to lop off all that fresh, new growth.

Daffodils are popping up in close-knit bunches, green blades reaching for the sky.  Soon the buds will swell & burst into a froth of yellow pleats & ruffles.  I am eagerly awaiting my front yard to erupt again.  Daffodils Daffodils

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And I have crocuses in all their white and purple glory, dotted across my flower beds.  You know, the ones that I didn’t plant.  The ones that I pulled up last year because I didn’t plant them the year before either.  But they are here again, anyway.

I know it’s Spring because I have the strange desire to round up all my cardboard and junk mail and recyclable stuff and drive it to the recycling center.  To turn out my closet & throw open the bedroom windows (although I probably won’t do that since it is still snowing).

I want to make salad, drink water, eat oranges.  Slice strawberries into a bowl & submerge them in un-whipped heavy (double) cream.  Pit cherries while sitting on the lawn in the sunshine, because it really is the safest place.  Grass doesn’t care about cherry juice stains.

Wear pink, white jeans, floaty tops. Pull on cargo pants.  With silly, strappy sandals.

I’d like to throw open the garage door and pull everything out on to the driveway, before purging, and cleaning, & lining it all up neatly back along the walls.

I feel energized to wash all the blankets, the drapes, and the woodwork.  I wouldn’t put the woodwork in the washer though.

Macarons

Eat macarons.  Ok, fine.  Yes I want to do that all the time.

Leave my big, duck-feather-filled jacket at home and not worry that I might need it later.

I want to move furniture.  Make ice cream.  Sit on my porch steps on a sunny Sunday afternoon and snip off all the deadheads on the daisies – with a tall glass of strawberry lemonade next to me & a big, floppy hat on my head.  Yes.  Yes, I do.

And I want to throw the patio doors open in the early morning breeze and not have to shut them until the last blush of light fades from the sky.  Daisy wants that too.

Me and Daisy – we are so ready to get our Spring on.

 

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