20 January 2011

Pink Dresses

There is always a day in each season when I think I will never want it to be summer ever again. Ever. And then there is always a polar opposite day when I think Summer is the most glorious season of all, and I can't wait for it to come. It puts me in mind of Left Handed Son of Old Man Hat who tells the story of how, when he was little, he thought summer and winter were locations rather than times--summer was up in the mountains where the sheep grazed when the heat came, and winter was down in the valley where the sheep were moved when the snows came. The Son of Old Man Hat recalled always wishing he was in the winter place when he was in the summer place and the summer place when he was in the winter place.

The day when I hate winter hasn't come yet, however. Today I was still in love with the soul moving crests, shadows, contours, and declivities on Timp when she's covered in snow and tinged with pink from the sunrise, and wrapping a rabbit-fur stole of clouds around her shoulders.

Though I had some tiny stirrings of longing for spring when I looked at spring dresses on the Nordstrom's website (their dress ads always suck me in), and I saw this picture of the girls at Easter in 2003. Just for a minute I thought I wish I was in Arizona sitting on the back porch with my family, smelling orange blossoms.

Then I pulled myself back to the present and realized I am still enjoying my leftover Christmas decorations, hearty stews, and long, cozy nights at home with kids, dinner, homework, and stories.

Today I 'm grateful for enjoyment. A year ago I was depressed, and today, for now, I'm not. How things always, always change!

P.S.--I'm also grateful for a warm home. One time the director of Food and Care Coalition told my students about a client who froze to death in his car outside their facilities one winter night. Please take a minute to vote to give them funding to expand their shelter--see the widget on the right side of my blog.


Marni C. said...

Beautiful! I had some mint tea during the intermission of the Deep Listening Band performance and as I sat there later, listening deeply and feeling restless (remember when Edith Wharton says that Americans are always anxious to get away from amusement as soon as they've arrived)I looked at the white curve of the ceiling, and felt the mint on my tongue, and listened more deeply and thought, here I am. I can just be here.

Bing said...

That photo is almost Fragonardian. I love it.

Eva said...

I've been thinking about the whole living in the moment thing. It's one of those cliches that is much more important than it sounds. Thanks for making me remember to stop and appreciate how the snow on the rooftops outside of my window make for a gorgeous, textured view. Almost makes me not wish it weren't 20 degrees outside. Double negatives.

Patricia said...