Spring
A grief bomb explodes a way off, subsuming flesh and value in mysterious fragments: no reason, no remorse, only Decision, the only real American idol.
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The chickens phase out their five-month sabbatical and begin laying again. Daffodils, crocus, and forsythia bloom. It’s time to scalp the ferns; maybe the rain will let up before the fiddleheads unfurl.
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Melatonin has betrayed my brain chemistry. All that is of nature does not nurture. A few hours’ sleep a night has been such a boon, and now it appears over. Mayo Clinic and other websites provide feedback that appears to corroborate my symptoms with melatonin intolerance: nightmares, depression, anxiety, dizziness, confusion–your standard Depakote redux. Rats. My husband has a partnership tax text, The Logic of Sub-Chapter K, that I am eyeing as perhaps the only thing in the world between me and a sleepless life.
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A hummingbird buzzes our feeder and appears not to like my cooking. I never could make good sugar water.
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“The works of his hands are verity and judgment; all his commandments are sure.
They stand fast for ever and ever, and are done in truth and uprightness.” (Psalm 111:7-8)
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Psalm 111 notwithstanding, uncertainties persist, and my winter mind yields slowly.
It is a slow transition. May God sustain us until the real Spring.
“Be not afraid, ye beasts of the field: for the pastures of the wilderness do spring, for the tree beareth her fruit, the fig tree and the vine do yield their strength.
Be glad then, ye children of Zion, and rejoice in the LORD your God: for he hath given you the former rain moderately, and he will cause to come down for you the rain, the former rain, and the latter rain in the first month.”
Joel 2:22-23
I’m sorry, Lauren. May the Lord give you all the grace and sleep that you need.
(Pretty crocus! Maybe that hummingbird was like my cat and needs super-fresh, ice-cold water?)
Mere flesh wound, hermana.
The sugar water was probably pretty close to ice cold this morning! Coolidge prefers very fresh food, right out of the can. Four hours and it’s dirt.
Hey, he’s got good food safety sense. At two he should be begging you to take it away before the bacteria establish a full-fledged colony in his bowl. (Though I don’t actually know if canned cat food is the same as canned human food in this regard.)
Heh. It passes the tuna bref test for hours–doesn’t change a bit.
Lauren,
I love Vic’s verse. I am praying for you, dear Sister.
Cats and food: We have two cats now, as you know. They turn their noses up at the food in their bowls and travel to enemy territory to steal food from the rival dish. It’s the law of the jungle, and they love it.
Awesome, Janet…though it sounds to me like sinless competition rather than theft!