rerun

Run that day by me again, wont you? Hey, thanks! Sixty-three degrees. Oh, that makes me so happy!

Outside, I see them – buds. The lilac by the house is springing plump little buds.





And the birds! What noise outside in the morning! Incredible.

It’s a workday. Walking to my office, walking from my office – that’s pretty much the extent of my “spring frolic.” And still, on the walk in, I could appreciate the fact that there were people eating outdoors on library mall. In Wisconsin. On March 7th. Incredible.






Then -- here’s a little treat: as I walk down Bascom Hill, I hear a shout. Another one, louder. I look over my shoulder – ohhh, I know that person! In a rare confluence of schedules we’re both walking the same way, the same time.






My daughter. A rare pleasure. As is the weather.


Later, much later I arrive home at the farmette. The rain starts. Heavy drops, sometimes accelerating, sometimes slowing down. I pick up an old rake that Ed keeps in the storage shed. We need one for just leaves, I tell him, all the while knowing that these are wasted words. If there is a rake here already, any rake – that’ll do.
Do you want me to move some chips with a pitchfork? -- he asks.

Okay.

I rake chips, then I rake last year’s leaves off flower beds. The rain comes down, on and off, on and off and still, it’s warm outdoors. 

An early spring evening. It could be a false start, an accidental detour before the next ice storm, but I don’t think so. Two days in a row with 63 – that’s no serendipitous dip, that’s a surefire trend.