Another sunny, warm (comparatively speaking) day–I do love these kinds of days.
The laundry’s going and I’ll have clean, cootie-free sheets to sleep on tonight. I’m feeling much better today after a good night’s rest, and clean sheets are always part of the “I feel better” package for me. I’m still a little congested and still coughing, but much more optimistic about my prognosis than I was earlier in the week. It’s nice to feel better, and feeling good will be–great!
I stayed up way late last night reading, something I haven’t done in a long time, but I was so caught up in my story that I just had to know what happened next. I was deep in the Ozarks, a part of the country I fell in love with when I fell in love with Mr. F, following the early adventures of Billy Coleman and his dogs, Old Dan and Little Ann, in Where the Red Fern Grows. It’s gritty and hard and sometimes spare but such a beautiful story of hope and sacrifice and love. I’m glad I picked it up, and I’m looking forward to getting back to it later today.
It’s funny how the book of the moment can dovetail so neatly in with the details of one’s own life. Take, for example, my own longing for spring, and warmth, sunlight, birdsong, and flowers in bloom. I found it in the book I read earlier this week, echoed in the words of Mary Call Luther, in Where the Lilies Bloom:
Spring is a wondrous necessity. I thought it would never come. I thought the hoary winter would never leave us. At night, after the others had gone to bed, I would go outside and stand in the snow and look out across the hard, white fields and think, This year it won’t come. Only a miracle could bring it. It’s such an old story, spring. Surely the earth must be tired of having to produce it year after year . . . . Spring won’t come again. How can it? Everything is so frozen . . . . Such childish thoughts those were and wasted ones. For the spring came as it always did, silently unfolding, pushing, pulling, budding, splitting.
It gives a person hope, to see things come back to life after a long, cold, fallow season. Such a wondrous necessity.