It often doesn't come at all, instead going right from winter into spring. Joe and I took a walk over to the Mt. Auburn Cemetery today...pure gorgeousness.
It often doesn't come at all, instead going right from winter into spring. Joe and I took a walk over to the Mt. Auburn Cemetery today...pure gorgeousness.
Yesterday Joe and I took advantage of the few hours of sunshine that Boston had and went down to check out the tall ship Stad Amsterdam which is docked at Rowe's Wharf for just a few days. The ship has luxury accomodations for special trips. Yesterday they had clearly done some sort of day trip and were just coming back to port. I wish I could have snagged some pictures with the sails up.
Sooo I just scored a new job as a PR Director for a big tech firm, helping grow the PR program for one of their newer divisions. It will be a good challenge for me and I'm really excited.
The tough part is telling people at my current job that I'm leaving. My timing is bad, so that doesn't help as we're hiring a new PR firm and we're going to be doing a lot of transition related to that change, much less having to transition my own work. Some people are worried about the hole I'm leaving and I can sense frustration when I mention I'm going. Many understand my reasons. Others are outright joyful that I'll be doing something good for me. But for the most part people have been sad, as I have felt--sad that I won't be working with such great people anymore.
But it's spring now and the peepers are out--I heard them yesterday. What a wonderful sound!
The crabapple and cherry trees will bloom in a few weeks and the grass is starting to pop up through the dirt. The temperature will be 70 today! Everything is poised to start bursting and blooming, to follow along the cyclical change and flux of the seasons.
It's a good time to change things up. Fall and spring always seem to represent new transitions for me. New job, new creative infusion, new possibilities.
Harshness vanished. A sudden softness
has replaced the meadows' wintry grey.
Little rivulets of water changed
their singing accents. Tendernesses,hesitantly, reach toward the earth
from space, and country lanes are showing
these unexpected subtle risings
that find expression in the empty trees.
What an apropos poem for today! Everything is starting to soften--the earth in particular is no longer hard and is starting to sprout the first green grass. In the backyard the tiger lilies have started to shoot up through the earth on their journey toward a full bloom in June. No leaves on the trees but the oaks in the front yard have thousands of little red buds on them--tomorrow's near 80 degree heat should bring them to near full bursting. Rilke captures the sense of early spring perfectly with the vanishing harshness, softness, rivulets, tendernesses, subtle risings, expression. The sounds are there, the images are there, the little green song is peeking through the words and through the poem, just as the spring is beginning to poke through the oppressive winter that we've had here in New England.
April really is the perfect month for poetry.
What, to you, is the first sign of spring? Have you seen it yet?
Submitted by Spy.
Well, it's not seeing a robin, because they don't seem to migrate anymore. I saw them here and there all winter long. But yesterday there was a fly in the window...and you never see flies or bugs until spring is imminent. I trapped it in the window.
Joe also flew around the house in a tizzy, tearing off all the plastic from the windows, vacuuming, cleaning, and having me help (I am, by far, the least domestic person you will ever meet unless it comes to dinner parties and the like). Now the place is pretty clean and "aired out" as he would say.