I am beginning to rust. Or it feels that way after so many months of inactivity and distancing. Eager for the gardening season to begin again, I have had to ease myself out of the chair to give my limbs time to oil up and unbend after the long months of winter.

I do take walks whenever the weather permits and try to enliven indoor activity with doing a chore that has been nagging me and my good intentions for days. If inspiration for that fails me, and for some company, I will quite happily indulge in an hour or two with a cup of tea and a good book.

The laundry and the dishes get done on a regular basis but that only takes a flick of a switch so I can’t say that it takes much energy to get those jobs done. The most considerable effort I make to finish them is to fold the laundry and unload the dishwasher which require a sit down afterward with possibly the above refreshers - book, tea, repeat.

Life has become a rare repetition of quiet but with the potential of spring, a certain amount of liberation is promised.  I do know clearly what a huge disappointment it is to wake up on a spring morning, according to the calendar, to see that a billowing storm has dumped a foot of snow during the night. Even in the daytime it is not welcome either. And woe be it to any of the anglers if it happens on fishing opener. Or should I say not if, but when.

We are resilient though and do rejoice with increasing daylight and seeing the tiny buds of daylilies popping up in the sunniest part of the garden. I have already unearthed my clogs for tramping in the flowerbeds and have located the trowel again after last fall’s hastening chores during October’s unexpected cold and wintry snap.  

It does teach us that the calendar certainly does not dictate our weather or the other way around. I have learned to hang my gardening gloves on a peg never far out of sight and next to the snow shovel.  Some things need to be kept handy as expectations aren’t necessarily orderly.

We are now in the trough season that is sketchy for just what clothes you might need on any given day. There may not be much need for a parka but I am still wearing gloves and a wool scarf to wrap around my neck when the wind blows. Then again, when doesn’t it?

I don’t even want to mention boots but just between us, they are relegated to the back of the closet, not out of reach or completely out of mind. Minnesotans know better. That is why we keep jumper cables in the car year-round.

Weather may just be a state of mind but here we know from experience that there is no such thing as four seasons. Experienced wisdom says that we have three – cold, hot, and daylilies.

Janice Kimes sketches the domestic cartoon of life with its inevitable calamities, delights and vigor. She and her family enjoy their seasonal Aitkin County cabin.

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