Winter has been a season of mad chaotic activity and deep introspection but I noticed not long ago that it is not winter any more.
The snow has gone, save in crusty patches on the shaded sides of hills and buildings, and the ice in the swimming pool is nearly out. The forsythia bush is starting to think about budding out, which means that I will spend the next several months renegotiating the boundaries of my parking space in the driveway. Some things I don’t remember having planted are poking their green tips up in the garden.
I really ought to have cleaned the garden last fall, but I didn’t. Maybe this weekend I will make time to do some pre-season yard work. Probably not, but I can aspire to virtue and a tidy garden. I managed it once, maybe, when I didn’t have a full time desk job.
I am looking forward to not having a full time desk job anymore.
I am also starting to get really excited about this next adventure – and trying to keep it contained, because I am still afraid on some level that something is going to go completely fubar and snatch this chance away again, somehow. That doesn’t make much rational sense, but it is my old friend the voice of paranoia making its presence known.
So much to do; it’s not that there’s so little time, just that everything seems to be coming together at once and no time to slow down or sleep. Which I really ought to make time for this weekend, but things! and opportunities! and stuff! and yeah, not sure how many weeks in a row I can keep running at full throttle before I go plop.