By Kathy Hughes
It is harder than I imagined to re-enter the main stream of life after an absence, and I find it a struggle to compose my thoughts and ideas. There have been several false starts, for instance, our “spring” weather.
March and April have been dismal, and I was ready to write about it two weeks ago, but then I tossed that idea — by the time it was published, surely such a topic would no longer be relevant, and we would all be enjoying warm weather and feasting our eyes on bright yellow forsythia, red tulips and lavender, sweet smelling hyacinths. Oh, I almost forgot the daffodils.
Wrong! It is still grey trees against a grey sky, and the landscape is devoid of color. I don’t remember ever being so starved for color, that it was actually physical. At Easter, I received an electronic (online) card from my cousin depicting a grey, garden scene, just like the one outside my window, which gradually transformed into a view saturated with color — shades of green and pastels — and active with birds, rabbits and squirrels. It affected me so strongly, my longing was so deep, that I felt like weeping.
Being optimistic, I thought by now my vision of spring’s arrival would be achieved. The long-range weather forecast suggests perhaps not, maybe my longings will still be relevant, and spring will still be delayed.
On that chance, I decided to go ahead with my complaint. You see, one thing about absence is that feeling of not being relevant when attempting to fit back in, that the world has moved on without you. Not being relevant is among the worst that could happen, equivalent to being dead!
Despite my horror, I find I need to say that I hope the forecast is wrong — I hope we are all frolicking in green fields, surrounded by robins tugging on worms, and cardinals calling for their mates. Welcome, spring!
