The snow is beating a slow retreat here at threadingwater, and the first tender crocus and snowdrop buds are forcing their cheery selves on the world.
Spring – the universe’s most un-sportsman-like version of ‘March Madness’ – plays without rules, and the officiating is clearly corrupt. Bad news circles like the Coopers hawks who have returned to build a new nest in the maple tree outside our house. Death in the family. War in Iraq. Bombs. Cancer cells. Poverty. Wickedness in the White House. Corruption. Simple-minded imbeciles spouting Christian values while perpetuating hate.
I should be despairing – and certainly, some part of me is – but that yellow crocus has me spellbound. The snowdrops take me to the brink of joyous tears and, despite my best efforts, I’m happy. Truly, deeply, for-no-good-reason, happy-as-a-sunny-crocus happy.
I mean, even if you’re driving around with a pro-dubya bumper sticker on your car three years into this bone-headed mess in Iraq – and you think you’re supporting our troops by sporting one of those ridiculous, meaningless yellow ribbon magnets, I’m so friggin’ happy that I’m going to feel sorry for you, and ask BlueGal to say a little prayer for you, instead of dismissing you as the moron you are.
THAT’s how happy I am today.