I Think it Might Be Spring...

fig leaves emerging like clasped hands

Wisteria is racing to beat the azaleas in bloom

Oh Hai!  Lookie who just arrived from Mexico -
actually we've noted three and they are all vying for this feeder.

The weather is unusually dry with a slight chill in
these Springtime breezes - I think it's
delightfully unusual, Chico thinks she'd rather wear a sweater.

It was hard to be indoors during my time off this weekend...nearly every part of daylight is beckoning us out and about...the chickadees found our nest box, I planted tomatoes and nasturtiums, tiny blooms everywhere - nearly about to burst forth.  Spring almost makes me sad - its quick quick.  And I've said this before, Spring always signals an end to me - years that I saw a school year thru...wondering and wishing when my future was going to begin.  And just like that, Spring - it's done.  It's a season that demands your constant attention.

After dark, when we could no longer frolic outside, we settled on a movie on Netflix, Reaching for the Moon, based on the life of poet Elizabeth Bishop.  It totally unhinged me because there were parts of my life, my spring, that I chased for things that ultimately were lost.

One Art

By Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident

the art of losing’s not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop, “One Art” from The Complete Poems 1926-1979. Copyright © 1979, 1983 by Alice Helen Methfessel.

Source: The Complete Poems 1926-1979 (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1983)