I love spring. I love the "oomph!" feeling of it, the oomph of everything pushing up, and out, so much more than the "bah-byyyyyyyye" feeling of fall. I sat on my porch this morning in pajamas and a parka, watching the birds play and silently reveling in that half hour of light when the automatic sensor of the front-yard streetlamp hasn't yet alerted the bulb to turn off, but the sky is irreversibly rosy and pregnant. Then there's that little "click," and the light goes off. The split second between dawn and morning.
That's my favorite time of day. It's so quiet, even on our own street. I went down to the front wall and the parkway and had a look. Brownish. Lots of leaf gunk clogging up the works down there. Lots of roses that didn't get pruned properly. Lots of dead stalky things that never got clipped sticking up at broken angles. And still, an anemone poking through it all, and plum blossoms fluttering. I saw only one other person, my neighbor, and she was in pajamas, too, so we just waved good morning and left the other to her still-drowsy perusals.
I never, ever thought I was a morning person, but of course I've become one now that I almost never use an alarm clock, and never have to get up early. When I do have to get up early, of course I cannot. The hub wakes up on work days at 5:30 a.m., and I generally beat him to it, and grab the first shower. It's vaguely disturbing how motivated I am by the idea that coffee is brewing, but by 5:50 I can think of nothing on earth so wonderful as that first sip. I would so be in line for fancy coffee makers and such, except that our cabinets sit only like 14 inches or something above the counter, and there is only one coffee maker that I've found that fits below them, and it's just some random one-button Mr. Coffee-type.
Isn't this little hunchy guy cute? His name is Cheerie. I finally got the new birds and flower pins put on the site. I messed up the site quite a bit in the process, too. It is so terrifying to change the template, and then watch it update all 372 html files. I just always feel like one wrong button could delete . . . everything. Or at least mess it all up. Which it kind of did. At least the spacing between lines in the sidebar. Which it turned out was kind of okay, but still, not intentional. I feel like Dreamweaver (the site design program) actually knows I am afraid of it, kind of like a horse can feel fear transferred from your butt to its back. Dreamweaver feels my fingers approach, and puts its ears back.
I'm so glad that it's spring. Andy started his seeds a couple of days ago. I think he's doing mostly herbs. What are you doing, hon? I never asked. He came up from the basement after getting his stuff in trays and said, "Oh yeah, they sent us this free packet of wildflower seeds. Did you want me to spread those?" NO! No, please! I do know that much, from watching my parents fall for it years ago, and then battle the resulting chaos. They really should label those things "free weeds" and save all us neophytes with tiny suburban plots the grief. It would be so much kinder, really.