Surprised by Spring

I am so not ready for spring.

I’ve gotten used to long winters. After years of a very mild case of the SADs, I have a strategy to get through them. I milk fall for all that it’s worth, and do my best to do some picking and canning and freezing. The holiday season gets me through to January on festivity, then I try to spend the first few months of the year throwing random parties to keep things cheerful. In March, I knit brightly colored things to remind me of spring, out of cozy wool that I can wear right away. Then before I know it, I’m planning a garden.

But mostly, I hunker down. I know what’s coming, and I act accordingly. I disconnect from my physical existence a little bit. I cook less, snack more, work a lot, read more, stop brushing my hair. By the time buds start appearing on the trees, I’m ready to re-connect with my body. I start thinking about eating food and actually tasting it, going on walks in places that are pretty, investing in myself in ways that take actual work.

But this year, winter never quite happened. Snow didn’t stick, and warm days kept sneaking in. Now it’s march, and I haven’t even bought any seeds, because I’m still waiting for the wind chill.

So you can imagine my shock when I got down to Tallahassee and the Azaleas were blooming.

We spent two days at St. Peter’s for a conference for seminarians on the priesthood. 48 hours, six or seven sessions, and lots of information packed into our heads that was extremely encouraging, but is going to require a lot of reflection.

Conveniently, we have a week to do just that. Jared’s uncle has a condo on Navarre (which I’ve learned is pronounced “nuhVARR”). Seven days with a beautiful view and lots of booze, which we plan to spend doing homework, watching TV, catching up on designs (that’s mostly me), and getting an early tan.