Wednesday, March 14, 2012

78 degrees

Five things to do on the warmest winter day in Madison (perhaps ever):

1. Bike to work. Of course. What, no time? Make time.


Say hi to the otter. Remember: last week -- ice on the lake, this week -- swimming otter in the lake.


2. Take your Property class for a Bascom ice cream cone at the Union. You say they need every classroom minute you can give them? Maybe. But they also need to feel sunshine on bare arms in March. Tell them to walk fast so that you can continue to pound knowledge on matters of property after the ice cream break.


3. Graciously accept a dinner out invitation from Ed. And take note his concern for your huge work load, even if that concern is voiced from a reclining position, where I leave him in the morning. With Isis. Both decadently sprawled out.

But, when the time comes in the evening to go out and both of you get distracted by planting tomato seeds in starter trays, let it go. Dinners out can happen another time. Sitting at the picnic table and pushing seeds into composted soil on a warm “winter” day is rare.



4. Pay homage to the crocuses. They deliver gold every day now.


5. Breathe deeply when outside. That’s a general thing you should do on any day. I’m told it’s good for the lungs. Or something.

Such a glorious summer winter day!

it just gets more and more imponderable

So what do you think about those solar flares out there, huh? Paul asks customers as they come into his cafĂ©. From there, the conversation can only head in odd directions. One person responds – eh, we’re all going to die soon anyway. Another – yeah and on top of it, it’s so damn hot in my office! She’s in a sleeveless dress. Didn't even come in with a jacket or a coat.

But I have to say, to me too, the weather out there has crossed the line. Yesterday I could still say – wow, isn’t this grand? Today, my inclination is to feel a bit uneasy. It’s almost too warm (this, coming from a person who can never have enough of “warm”).

Of course, I ride Rosie to work.


But, on the late afternoon return, the biker jacket feels stuffy. The gloves are too clammy. I tilt the visor up to get breeze on my face.

I say to Paul – weird, how warm it is...

In my pause after teaching, I check Facebook. A perfect two minute break. Say what? It seems that when I agreed to “like” a restaurant in town last week, I was entered into a pool of potential winners. Odds? 2000 to 1. And it seems that I have won! No huge deal – the prize is  a sampling of wines and cheeses, but still – I love that I’ve won! At the same time, I never like beating the odds. I like to believe that the unlikely will not happen!

At the farmhouse, the windows stay open today. When we rebuilt the interior, the farmhouse took on a wonderfully fresh smell. But as the cold season set in, that new house scent rescinded. Now, as soon as I open the windows, the freshness comes back. You have no idea how heady the scent is: of wood, of earth, of delightfully pure air.


I keep Rosie ready for the next day. That sweet red thing saves me time and money. You might ask -- how could it make a difference? The route is short, the savings surely are insignificant. I would respond -- oh, but today, I came home with enough time for a half hour of honeysuckle chopping out back. As I worked the clippers around hefty limbs and Ed dragged them to a burn pile (to my commenter, Earth Girl -- thank you for the idea! We'll burn next winter, in celebration of the first snow!), I thought -- life surely has been kind to me.


In the evening I meet friends downtown at Graze. I hadn't seen them for a long time and suddenly it seems like all good things fall upon this day of warm air, pretty platters of solidly good food, jovial updates of months gone by.



Tomorrow, I am told that the temps will be warmer, better, more approachable. Better? How could it be better? The windows stay open tonight. The air still feels summer warm. Weird. But beautiful. So very beautiful.