I love this “not yet” time of year.
It’s not yet time to plant the flowers (except for pansies!!!). Our frost date is still a few weeks away, but we’re getting enough warm afternoons that it’s time to start dreaming of geraniums, petunias, and impatiens.
It’s not yet time to put away the long sleeves and sweaters, but some days, the heaters shut off for hours, and the quiet is amazing.
The trees are not yet leafing out (or making pollen!) so the sunlight comes right down from the heavens to warm and brighten the earth. I love that brightness when I’m outside, and love it coming in through the windows as I sit at my writing desk.
The bugs are not yet out. This is a big one for me. I hates me some house flies and skeeters, to say nothing of the ticks that gave me Lyme disease. I know all of creation depends on bugs, but it’s not yet time to tell myself that three times a day.
This time of year lets me wake up with the sun, and still have a long, dark evening for reading and nosing around the Brit Box documentaries.
We might still get some snow, but it will be what my mom called onion snow. It won’t last, and the trees, bulbs, and beasts will shrug it off–as will I.
My horse is shedding, and soon we won’t have to play the “put your big blanket on, take your big blanket off. Put your light blanket on, and shake it all about…” Darling pony will roll in the dust and mud and be a happy, dirty guy just as Divine Providence intended him to be.
It’s not yet hot, muggy, and humid… not yet loud because the windows aren’t all open all the time and the Yard Patrol hasn’t yet begun subduing the grass twice a week.
It’s not yet time to weed and weed and weed, not yet time for poison ivy (I excel at getting poison ivy). Hot tea still tastes wonderful first thing in the day, though the house isn’t frigid when I come downstairs in the morning. Hot soup and cheese dreams makes a wonderful supper, but I can also take my last cuppa tea out onto the porch if I want to bundle up and watch the stars go by.
This time of year feels to me as if mother nature is drowsing in bed, knowing the alarm will go off eventually, but it hasn’t yet, and she can enjoy a few more weeks of peace, rest, and quiet.
How does this time of year, and this time of THIS year, find you? To three commenters, I will send out ARC epub files of Storm and Shelter, the April anthology that includes eight–count ’em!–novellas for $.99!