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Blue Squill

Flying By  
By Maggie Turner  


Monday, April 10, 2000

Flying By

 

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It has been very cold here for the last few days. I have retreated into relative inactivity, setting foot neither in the garden nor on the sidewalk. From time to time I throw on an old winter jacket and race to the compost or the recycle box. The visits are brief and hurried. I just do not want to go anywhere at all. I have been happily playing with my computers and the days are flying by me.

This reminds me of the winters of my childhood. We enjoyed playing out in the snow. It was almost dark when we arrived home from school, after walking several miles. As soon as we warmed up a bit after the long walk, we would dress in layers of old clothes and coats and race out the door and into the white. What happy hours we spent creating realms, surrounded by a pristine silence and the lowering darkness. Those old feelings have been with me for the last few days. Spring may be just around the corner but I am settling in for a long winter's nap.

I have been busily paying bills and taking care of the endless stream of administrative obligations that clutter modern life. It has been a frustrating experience this time round. The books do not balance, bills are misplaced or missing and I seem to have overestimated my spending capacity, which is not a difficult thing to do. Two doctor's appointments have to be rescheduled. The checks that were in the mail are still there. The digital camera batteries I received as a Christmas gift died. The young sales clerk at the store where they were purchased just shrugged and said; "The 90 day return policy has expired." The power supplies I own will not supply power to an old pair of speakers that I am trying to resurrect for "The Teenager" and company. The Apple Oatmeal Bread I baked is delicious but dry and crumbly. And I felt cold all day. "There, there" I tell myself, "it is all over now."

Really, if this is all I have to complain about life must be very good indeed.

The warm weather will arrive soon and a metamorphosis will take place. I will emerge from my warm cocoon-like home to dig in the dirt. The weather forecast is not helping here; it informs me that the weather will remain cold and windy for the rest of the week. Perhaps it will improve by the weekend. There are a great many activities I have planned for out of doors when the weather turns warm. It is hard to be patient.


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