Spring is in the air….

The warm weather is finally in, warming my spirit and rushing my life into frenzied action. The deck needs to be swept and decked with potted flowers, kites need to be bought to fly against the clear blue skies on a lazy afternoon, the perfect picture of Popeye popping a bubble needs to be taken and windows have to be opened to allow fresh air into stale rooms.

I cannot wait any longer, its time for the buds to sprout, the leaves to break open, the last rock of hardened snow to melt away and take winter along with it. On the first warm day, which was yesterday, I ran out and bought a beach ball, bubble wands, colored chalk and fresh flowers, claiming they were for my children.

Some days are just perfect! On such days, I don’t try to hide the kitchen table, colored in with crayons, with a table cloth, I don’t care if the rose bud is placated beside the full blossom to balance the arrangement, I don’t need any music or different lighting! Dinner, prepared with love is enjoyed in cozy pajamas and the chatter is about a million nothings!

 I had trouble writing earlier, as the inner critic was on and relentless, she begged me to produce perfection! But today is different! I feel like I woke up smaller than my regular size this morning and it feels wonderful! My heart wishes to write today and I have gently abided, my spirit feels free and the heavy critic has dropped off my aching back! 

Today I can write, stories without morals, essays about candy wrappers, I can choose to produce a sonnet with just fifty words or I can go off the path and yonder. When did she leave - the inner critic? Don't ask me, I don’t know! Perhaps it’s got something to do with the wee brown bird that sat upon the fence and peered at me through the window!

Somehow the day feels flighty and there is simply no need for heavy preponderance. I must have turned around and decided to write in some sleeping moment, a soft thought to not be shy and walk into the woods bare footed like the breeze!

The house is still and quiet. A shoe- box sits on the coffee table and newspapers lie scattered everywhere. There is a painted pinecone and a giant sombrero sitting upon the chair. There is not a soul, none other than my own and I am alone! And yet, I have my words, these words that are setting me free!