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Shifting by Degrees

IMG_0933Last weekend, the temperature outside rose by 10 degrees, then almost 20. The sun hit the ground full force, shrinking ice and stretching puddles and filling the air with the start of a new season.

Like any good Wisconsinite on the first sunny, decent day, I got the car washed. I dragged the shop-vac out of the basement and sucked up all kinds of after-school snack crumbs from the back seat. I scrubbed the interior doors and center console to rid them of salt marks left behind by snow boots. I gave myself a workout sloughing off remnants from the last few months.

Then, I breathed a big sigh of relief and thought I just might make it.

The last several weeks have been hard. Not because I’ve been buried in mounds of snow like friends out east. Not even because I’ve had to shovel winter’s bounty more than once (though the last time I did felt like doing penance with its wet and heavy load). I hit a relative low in January, perhaps seasonal or cyclical or who-knows-what-sical, and it’s been tough pushing through to the other side.

ry=400But it’s shifted–like the temperature lifted–in a positive direction, and the newness in the air is a welcomed reprieve.

…

So it is with writing, too.

My schedule at work has changed such that, even though I’m in the office more, I’m finding more energy outside of work to pay attention to my novel, taking one afternoon a week to do nothing but work on the story.

I won’t say the words are coming easier or the revising is less painful, but the manuscript is improving inch by inch. And after sitting stale for a while, a story that grows even by small degrees is like Spring at full tilt.

…

Speaking of Spring and full tilt and writing, don’t forget to register for the Flash Nonfiction course I’m teaching that begins April 5th! Your house, my house, in your favorite cafe…it’s online and at your fingertips.

We all have stories. What’s yours?

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I’m ready.

For all sorts of reasons, this time of year points to new beginnings. After a long, drawn out winter, I say, yeah. It’s about time.

I took a long walk with a friend today, and we passed by tiny purple flowers pushing through last year’s lawns. We saw daffodils and the beginnings of tulips, too, but the purple flowers held my attention. One bloom by itself did little to change the landscape; clustered together, though, they whispered a promise.

Wood Violet Petals 10

I can’t wait.

Lately, I’ve been behaving like a madwoman, cleaning out drawers and clearing out space and rearranging furniture in the house, perhaps making way for this new energy.

And, while this post speaks of “new,” I’m re-posting something old, a Wednesday’s Word poem written around this time last year, because it too says, Hey. Get up. Get a move on.

Shake it off and look around….

Wake Up.

I am nudged awake
By the snout
Of my black lab.
Whose chin,
Wet from her morning drink,
Shocks me
And ensures
I don’t drop off
To sleep again.

She demands her walk.

Eyes barely open,
I slip into last night’s jeans,
A crumpled shirt, my crocks.
And, I turn to see
She’s holding the leash
In her mouth-
A sign that I
Am moving
Too slow.

“It’s early yet,”
I whisper,
And, I hope
For a quiet walk.
But my sleek, dark friend
Has a different plan,
And she pulls me
Through a cacophony
Of music.

The sounds of a city revving up its day.

Squeaky brakes from a bus
Pitch an off-key tune,
And a jackhammer down the block
Sets the beat.
Bada-dum.
Bada-dum.
Bada-dum.
I am pulled by my dog
‘Til my pace falls in line.

I hear sounds from the left
And noise from the right
Like instruments, I think,
And I swear
People are hiding
In alleys,
With cymbals
And triangles
And maybe a wood block.

They play a song
Of the city
Coming alive.
A tune
That celebrates.
Invigorates,
And culminates
When we reach
The fountain.

She stops,
My four-legged guide,
And looks right at me
With a grin. She’s sly.
I cock my head.
The water rises and falls
Like the sound of applause
From an audience, unseen.
~
What new things are coming to life in your part of town?