Thursday, August 11, 2011
Waiting for Spring
My seasons are a muck.
We are in a streak of days stretching to 90 or 100 degrees, so clearly summer is densely, thickly here.
Yet, school has started. Autumn must be coming. This smells of apples, cider, sweatshirts, football games, painted leaves, and freshly sharpened pencils.
(And also, pumpkin spice goodness at Starbucks. This is the only way I can forgive them for discontinuing my beloved coconut.)
And yet, I feel like it is still winter. It has been winter for a long, long time.
I am looking for spring, such an elusive season.
I sometimes feel extended days of sunshine, and I seem to see buds peeking through - only to feel them hardened by another cold frost that sweeps in overnight.
I have tried to peek around the corner and into the next chapter... yet the words of fruit and flower seem empty to me.
Perhaps spring must begin on its own calendar.
Perhaps I can neither wish nor read myself into a new season.
I can only wait for what grows underground.