Pondering the imponderable

When Mother Nature tries to squeeze a winter’s worth of weather into one week, some folks feel claustrophobic after the first few days of that week. Meanwhile, during our morning walk today, the dogs agreed that this weather isn’t fit for man nor beast, but wondered who’s the beast and does bff mean beast friends forever? I think snow storms four out of five days are affecting everyone. Remember the old joke about pounding one’s head against a brick wall because it feels so good when you stop?

I acknowledge that, until recently, a relatively mild and snowless winter had me less than enthusiastic about spring’s arrival. It would have been largely same old, same old... Not any more! I am so looking forward to the thaw/melt and greening because it will be such a radical change! No doubt it will take awhile, but flowers and butterflies will eventually arrive, followed by dragonflies. By then we will be somewhere around the end of May and beginning of June and I may have even completed a couple of fishing trips.

old apple tree with a single apple

Photo by J. Harrington

In the interim, I plan to read some poetry, reread Linda Hogan’s Dwellings, bake some bread, and listen for the sounds of flowing waters. I’m also debating forgoing news and social media until the majority of the human race shows signs of sanity. But if I don't check news and social media, how will I know sanity may have begun to prevail?

Gather

Rose McLarney

Some springs, apples bloom too soon.
The trees have grown here for a hundred years, and are still quick
to trust that the frost has finished. Some springs,
pink petals turn black. Those summers, the orchards are empty
and quiet. No reason for the bees to come.

Other summers, red apples beat hearty in the trees, golden apples
glow in sheer skin. Their weight breaks branches,
the ground rolls with apples, and you fall in fruit.

You could say, I have been foolish. You could say, I have been fooled.
You could say, Some years, there are apples.

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