We had an honest Wisconsin winter, and now it looks like we will have an honest spring to follow. Springs are brief, here, a sliver between the cold and the heat. But it is a good sliver, like a sliver of cake after a long meal.
There are fair days behind and fair days ahead, and after breakfast, we can wrap some sandwiches in a kitchen towel, set off on foot, and not return home until mid-afternoon naps. The banks are low at the river, perfect for climbing down and throwing sticks. The ground is dry enough for picnics. Our legs are eager to walk and walk and walk.
That is how spring looks best to me: walking, food eaten outdoors, plants and plants and plants.
The house is slowly shifting. I am eager to put the tub of hats, scarves, mittens, snow boots out of sight, replace it with baseball caps, umbrellas, and picnic blankets. But this is Wisconsin, and I can count on a few days of cold ahead. Ditto to the wool blankets (I would love to get a good spring blanket like this).
Meanwhile we throw our sticks in the river. We walk. We practice our manners. While I put Margot down to nap, Reed borrows my phone to listen to The Sorcerer’s stone. Helen watches the record player spin and sings along. We eat and eat.
I have three young kids. Even the smallest cracks in my day are filled. And I do wish I had time for the things I don’t make time for. Organizing (never my strong suit). Correspondences (grandparents, old friends). Sewing (an aspiration, not a skill). But another way of saying that my days are filled up is to say that I have a full life. And I do. I’ve made a full life for myself. I’m proud of that. I’m proud to spend my days walking with my children, reading Stuart Little, answering questions like “Cat or kangaroo?” I’m proud to fry eggs and swing Helen onto my back. I’m proud to write and do database homework and dishes.
It’s a full life and it will be a full spring. Let me know what your spring is full of. I’d love to hear it.