Saturday, March 16

Procrastination and Nearly Forgetten Things

There has been much going on to take me away from the computer this month. Between the daily chores, the kids, the seemingly endless to-do list, and battling the revolving door of germs and sickness, it has been a busy few weeks. We have had days of almost spring-like weather which puts me outside cleaning up the yard mess that was buried under the snow. Bits of garbage and construction material wrappings have been blown down the road from the new development going up to the west of us. The recycling that doesn't quite make it into the truck and ends up caught in the lower branches of the cedar bushes. And the leaves. Millions of leaves. All the dead, brown and half masticated leaves that did not get raked up last fall that are now plastered to the ground like a thick carpet.
With all I see to do outside when the snow is not flying, and all I see to do inside when it;s just too cold to work outdoors, I have become a little overwhelmed. These are the times that I fall into a rut of  the "whys". Why am i trying to do all these projects? Why do I need to make this or that instead of just going to Walmart to buy it? Why do I try so hard to keep the living room floor free of smashed goldfish crackers? It is around this time that the perils of procrastination take over and I find myself watching a Walking Dead marathon and eating jello instant pudding. The only thing I can think of to write about is my high level of annoyance at Andrea and her indecision concerning the Governor.
So when I saw these little purple crocus flowers making their way though the frozen ground this morning, I was jolted right back into my right mind. Yes, I am still anxiously awaiting this Sunday's episode (I hope Andrea gets taken out by a walker) but I just love these little flowers.
They are the first to show up every year - closely followed by the snowdrops. They are in the middle of the side yard, mixed in with the grass and I was told by my neighbor that the woman who lived her years ago had a small flower garden in that very spot. Now it is just a slight indentation in the ground, about 4 feet by 3 feet, and it is all grass except for those few crocus plants.
They remind me that spring will be here very shortly and the growing season will start and I will be outside until the sun finally sets in the evenings. They also remind me of the nearly forgotten things that are scattered around our property and buildings - gardens in the grass, initials carved in the wooden barn beams, pieces of broken blue and white pottery brought up with the tiller in the side field. I like how it all comes together to form this mysterious story. Did she plant that garden so she could see flowers from her window? Was that pottery a nice blue and white teapot? A chipped plate? How did it end up in the field? Was there once a house there? Or a garbage pit?

Did the person with the initials W.A.W live here? Did he work in the barn? Was he a hired man?

When I carve my initials in a beam and someone finds them 70 years from now, will they wonder who I was and what I did here? I hope, through some genealogy or historical magic, they will know how and why we lived this way - a story of lives lived purposefully. Unless my procrastination leads me to spend too much time in front of the television - what kind of story would that be!?

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