could it be? spring fever?

The past week and a half I've been feeling the intense desire to look out the windows or at the landscape in front of me as I walk around outside and see GREEN. Lots and lots of lush, vibrant green. The excitement of seeing the earlier signs of spring, bulbs pushing up, the spring-blooming redbuds and dogwoods budding ( but not yet blooming), Salina shedding, equines chewing on trees, and the Mystical Kit losing his winter mane mats, are giving over to a cell-deep feeling of impatience and agitation.

I've been walking around overwhelmed with all the things that need doing this time of year. Getting fields and beds cleared and groomed. Keeping track of equines who are shedding and not yet shedding and getting white butt cheeks on warm days. Seeing all the maintenance chores that need to be done in a "new light." Starting seeds. Moving the indoor plants out to the front porch for the spring/summer.

For me, the surest sign that I am managing an acute case of spring fever is when I start feeling driven to do things like clean closets. Usually it just takes one or two to cure me, but this year I have so many other things going on: books to promote and write, a young Corgi who is so furry I am realizing we are probably going to have to have him clipped for summer (he is what is called a "fluffy" Corgi - and we were not prepared for this level of coat care - I've never seen anything like it), monitoring all the different needs of all the animals in the family, getting the sandplay garret back into gear for new clients, etc., etc.

This weekend I found myself washing window sills and curtains in the living room. It's only a step away from that to closets, but instead, this beautiful morning, I'm going to feed breakfast and listen to birds and muck some manure.

Interestingly, our drying out and warming up and getting a large dose of wind, all the things I hoped for a month ago, have put us in the middle of a huge threat of wildfires. There are numerous fires burning in our region, and each day for the past four or five days there are tallies of how many more fires have started. So now the mud is gone, but I'm watching for sparks, and smoke, and hoping we get a day of rain to wet things down a bit.

But Saturday I saw the first butterfly, and although I haven't seen one yet, I suspect the carpenter bees are next line. There's something about waiting for the next season to fully arrive that pulls us forward. Keeps us watching and waiting and going.

It amazes me that the things we dislike about each season are the same things that make us look forward to the next one. It's a cycle, and it's how we mark time in our lives, outside of clocks and watches and appointments and places we have to be and things we have to do.