...happens like a green explosion. I'm used to slow, muddy Pennsylvania springs where the green creeps in faintly, like a shading of mold on three-day-old bread. Where poems like "Spring and All" truly apply. Here, nothing doing. One week it's winter, the next it's almost May. All of the bare, dead underbrush that I've been looking at for months is vivid with leaves and hiding everything under it. The trees are quickly following.
I'm so happy. I love my Pennsylvania springs, but Indiana winters are so freaking miserable that this overnight lushness feeds what's been starving in my spirit.
I'm also quite sad that everyone I keep tabs on through blogging is voyaging back to the Grove this weekend and I can't go. Hello to all you beloved people, and have a drink for me!
There has been lots of discussion about faith lately, and I must participate, but I think that's going to wait till tomorrow. Right now I'm exhausted (I worked with the toddlers this week and it's been a trial adjusting my curriculum to their abilities and attention spans, but I love Meg, my supervisor, and the kids are cute too), faintly in disbelief that it's Friday, and intending to stuff my noggin with all the network TV it can handle. My second stomach is causing its monthly pains, so I don't think TV is such a bad thing.
Oh, I'm also immensely content because I destroyed the hugest blind zit that my chin has ever seen. Gross, yes; but is anything ever more satisfying? Be honest. (On second thought, maybe don't be honest; just admit that zit-popping has its satisfaction.)
2 comments:
is a blind zit what my mother used to refer to as a 'red zinger'? those craters in training lurking just below the surface without ever coming to head, leaving you with generalized ache and grumpiness?
Yeppers. I allowed it to torment me for a week before driving a needle to its subcutanean source and forcing it out.
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