Please, please come soon.
After my day yesterday of yearning for the dreary weather to make it's gradual change to blossoms and blue skies and green, I was gently reminded today to stay in the present and not rush what "is." Yesterday morning I found myself thrown into that unsettling emotional state of "freak, I can't handle yet another day without the sun." By noon I was purchasing bright white vases, faux blossoms, lilacs, and hydrangeas, along with a live topiary and giant bouquet of beautiful fresh flowers. I came home and placed flowers on bookcases and countertops, then completed the makeover with a few rosy Valentine's decorations. Ahhh, it's amazing how flowers and the color pink can make you feel :-).
So, as karma would have it, today while sitting in the ski lodge watching Liza zip up and down the hill, I came across this insightful passage in the book I am currently savoring . . .
"We are stuck in the gray, boggy season that follows winter but is, in anyone's book, a far cry from spring. It is a season that demands forbearance, for beauty is hard to find. The frozen purity of winter is a memory, spring is a dream. . . .
We are suspended between seasons, like becalmed sailors waiting for wind. It used to be that these cold, patchy-snow weeks of in-between time would fill me with discontent, so eager was I for spring, for the warmth of the sun and the turn of the season, for good footing and new, green life. For whatever might be next. But on this damp, wind-tossed afternoon, what I feel is not my old restless yearning for something else, but a new, unfamiliar patience. Why rush the passing of time? Why long for a future that can't be foretold, only to miss the muddy magnificence of now?" (pg. 282 & 285)
Well said, dear author. Thanks again for the reminder not to rush my days and to live in the ever magnificent present.