{"id":1207,"date":"2008-04-04T00:19:12","date_gmt":"2008-04-04T06:19:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=1207"},"modified":"2008-04-04T10:26:09","modified_gmt":"2008-04-04T16:26:09","slug":"poetry-friday-cold-spring","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=1207","title":{"rendered":"Poetry Friday: Cold Spring"},"content":{"rendered":"

crocuses in the snow<\/a><\/p>\n

Hellooooooooooooooooo, spring!<\/p>\n

This morning, on my way to work, I finally saw some crocuses starting to bloom, and I think until that moment I hadn’t realized just how bad I needed to see something green. I almost cried with relief. <\/p>\n

I really, really<\/em> like winter. And snow. No, serious, I do! What I don’t like, weather-wise, is too many days in a row of the same thing. This winter felt like one long five-month stretch of 30-degree-highs, grey skies, and fitful snow flurries, punctuated by an occasional serious snowstorm that would coat everything in prettyness for a few hours, but ultimately just add another layer to those icy piles of crud that build up along the edges of the sidewalks.<\/p>\n

Yeah, I needed a little green already.<\/p>\n

This week I got it. Not just the crocuses – there’s grass! Buds on tree branches! There’s even little spiky blades of stuff that might be daffodils and tulips soon! (I know, people, we don’t even have daffodils yet – see how bad it is?)<\/p>\n

We can’t get too cocky about it yet, though. It’s still cold. Sure, it’s sunny, but there’s a fierce wind out there that does not permit the shedding of coats and scarves. Not just yet. But that’s okay by me – the sun and the green are enough for now. They’ve shaken me out of my winter huddle-under-a-blanket-drinking-cocoa doldrums. It feels like change out there, like newness, like possibility, like the start of something… and it makes me want to start something too. It makes me want to stand up, toss that blanket on the couch, stretch, look around, and… I dunno, misspend whatever’s left of my youth?<\/p>\n

It’s the kind of weather that makes you wonder where the past year has gone – for that matter, where the past 34 years have gone. It makes you wonder if you’re wasting your life away; wonder if you could be doing more, living<\/em> more. Maybe it’s time to figure out what you really<\/em> want to do with the rest of your life, and just go do it already.<\/p>\n

I love it when I find a poem that perfectly expresses what I’m feeling right at that moment. Today it’s “Cold Spring” by Lawrence Raab:<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The last few gray sheets of snow are gone,
\nwinter\u2019s scraps and leavings lowered
\nto a common level. A sudden jolt
\nof weather pushed us outside, and now
\nthis larger world once again belongs to us.
\nI stand at the edge of it, beside the house,
\nlistening to the stream we haven\u2019t heard
\nsince fall, and I imagine one day thinking
\nback to this hour and blaming myself
\nfor my worries, my foolishness, today\u2019s choices
\nhaving become the accomplished
\nfacts of change, accepted
\nor forgotten.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I love that phrase “sudden jolt of weather.” That’s exactly what this week felt like. Read the rest<\/strong><\/a>, and you’ll be treated to the equally delicious phrase “first splurge of crocuses.” <\/p>\n

There’s also my favorite line of all: “If I’m not happy it must be my own fault.” Brrr.<\/em> That’s about as bracing as Ithaca’s spring wind.<\/p>\n

*** edited to add… <\/em>***<\/center><\/p>\n

Becky’s on round-up detail at Becky’s Book Reviews<\/strong><\/a>. Good stuff is blooming all over the blogs today. Check it out!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Hellooooooooooooooooo, spring! This morning, on my way to work, I finally saw some crocuses starting to bloom, and I think until that moment I hadn’t realized just how bad I needed to see something green. I almost cried with relief. I really, really like winter. And snow. No, serious, I do! What I don’t like, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1207","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry-friday"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1207","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1207"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1207\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1207"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1207"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1207"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}