Sunday, February 20, 2011

Mother Nature is a flirt.

What an incredibly beautiful day. The wind was blowing the strong scent of damp earth and life through the warm air. We gained about 200 square feet to our home due to the unseasonable weather. Our sun room is uninhabitable during the long, midwest winter, but today we opened the back door and remembered that we had a room where we could sit in the gusty wind and sunshine without the flies or the spiders. (Our yard is crawling with them. This will kill me early.)
After church the Artist grilled us hamburgers and we made the girls stop romping long enough to eat.
It has been relaxing and lovely,


I know the drill. This is not spring. This is a hip-swinging strut from Mother Nature herself.
She likes to put on some fresh make up and pucker up and tease.
She heard us all cursing the snowbanks and ice and she decided it was time to remind us of her sweeter side.
She pulls out her best temperatures and starts coaxing little gnats and blooms and critters from their hiding places deep in the ground.
We all emerge together - the humans, the squirrels, the rabbits, the flowers, the bugs - and take one communal sniff of her perfume and we're hooked. She's got us drooling and begging for more.
In other words, she's got us right where she wants us.
And then to prove that she holds the power she will take her upperhand and turn it into a backhand across our face in a few days. She won't hold anything back. Hail. Rain. Snow. Ice. We'll taste it all again soon.
She'll hold us hostage to her capricious moods as she sashays straight through her blustery springtime temperament.
But we'll take it. We always do. Because no matter how fickle or rude or unpredictable she is, she smells like lilacs and rainstorms and wind blowing over the fields of mud and we will smell it and follow and love her anyway.
She's a flirt, we know she's a flirt, and still, somehow, we fall for it every year.
I laid down in the damp, brown grass with the girls today and felt the stiff blades poking my head and watched the clouds drag across the white sky while birds whistled from our rooftop.
I think I'm twitterpated with Mother Nature.

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