March 23, 2015
I'm so happy that it's raining. Somehow I find myself more inclined to stroll around outside when there's a light drizzle and breeze. It feels so refreshing and much more seasonally appropriate than the warm, sunny days we've had this month.
Outside, some of last year's planted fruits and flowers are cropping up in our garden beds and containers alongside a healthy covering of grass and weeds. I know I'll have to pluck out the wild things eventually, but I'm loving the chaos of it all growing and spiraling up together for now. It forces me look a little closer at the ground to find the hidden gems.
And then there are the spring flowers that seem to disappear just as soon as they appear. The camellias are so pretty when they bloom, but I've never had much of an affinity for them. I wouldn't have planted them myself, but I don't mind keeping remnants of the previous owner here and there. Our neighbors tell me she loved her garden and was very fond of rhododendrons, camellias, roses and spring bulbs. We've changed the dynamic of our yard a lot over the past three years, but we've kept some things in her honor.
And then there's the wilderness of the great indoors, of which I have a decidedly different perspective. You could call it "nesting" or "spring cleaning," but the gist is the same. We're in the midst of a cleaning and organizing frenzy right now, which comes in part from necessity.
But another part of this is definitely ritualistic. A way for me to wrap my head around our impending transition into parenthood. A physical manifestation of my nervousness and excitement and impatience. It's soothes me to use my hands, and helps me feel more clear and ready for change. That's the idea, at least.