Spring Will Come

"Spring will come despite the rain—


wild mustard and garlic a tangled skein 


of yellow and white; forget-me-nots


on hillsides and in puddling ruts


misting in drifts of blue.

"Mothwing petals sift past quince, 


blooming bare-branched beneath 


the plumed plum. Despite the rain, 


despite the pain—or is it from, 


or through? Prepositions don’t matter; 


spring will come.
"

 - Rebecca Foust, Spring Will Come

I spent a few afternoons last week in the backyard – unshrouding and watering my potted succulents, planting some new stuff that had been sitting around in pots, and generally cleaning up. It’s the first time I’ve been able to enjoy some garden therapy for what seems like forever.

This is the time of year I feel like I've been curled up inside a dank cave hibernating, except that I don't just sleep - I eat. Great combination when added to a regimen of absolutely no exercise.

I love this poem even though I have exactly none of the flowers the poet mentions. Instead, I’m enjoying the slant of late afternoon sunlight on the aeoneum in bloom and the heady smell of lavender and impatient narcissus in bloom.

Speaking of impatient, the dog ran between me and the narcissus flower the first time I tried to snap a picture. I like the flower one better than the one with the dog’s butt.

The dog has to run around outside during the day so she can sit quietly in the evening so I won’t strangle her. She enjoys her time outside trampling my plants, splashing into the dirty pond, and generally being a rambunctious kid. She does however want all your attention all the time and can’t even go out to pee without company. Charming.

At least cats leave me alone most of the time, and then display their love without jumping on me and trying to knock me down with webbed paws soaked in pond scum. The dog leaves this afternoon for a ten-day doggie boot camp which may save my life and her own, and not a moment too soon. My poor therapy cat has become paranoid and has sentenced herself to solitary confinement in rooms carefully blocked off so there is only enough room for a cat to enter and leave. I'm told that within three months the cat will no longer be terrified of the huge clumsy dog who thumps noisily around the house bumping into stuff and looking for trouble or the remains of a nasty rawhide bone that is soggy and chewed.  The three months are half over.

Despite the rain, despite the pain, spring comes eventually to every climate zone and every backyard. The trick is to hold on until then. And also to hold on until doggie boot camp ends and my lovable dog learns how to behave.