I sat down in the grass on March 14th. Spring appeared to have taken the reins that fall had hidden from winter. Lake Mendota opened in front of my like the unknown unfolds fear in the mind. Something always strikes me about the fact that you can see two different water towers across the lake. Something different. Something better. The grass and the trees are still dead. The birds are not back in full force. But everything else seems vibrant. The first day after winter where instead of a harsh, biting wind, there is a cool breeze that brushes you. The wind can tell you a lot of things if you are listening.
Today seems like a fantastic day to start things. Starting things has never been an issue for me. Getting ankle-deep in something and not following through has been my M.O. for my whole life. I think this is just another brick in that wall. I think I am going to post this on the internet with absolutely no vision of what it will become. Probably nothing. I might try to keep doing this on a regular basis. I may even succeed. Anyway, it looks like something is burning across the lake. Or maybe there's just a factory there, but I doubt it. The greyish-black smoke doesn't belong today. It's found a hole in the fence of the heaven that is today, and the wind is desperately trying to shove it back through. In fact, it looks like it has cleared up already.
I'll take this on a Sunday afternoon. I know the world's calendar calls this Wednesday, but the liquid calendar I live on places this weather firmly on the Sabbath. Churchless as I am,I feel no obligation. Perhaps more rituals would help to regulate my behavior. Or at least my paragraphs. But at least now, when someone inevitably asks me, "Did you get outside?" I can say yes. And having just that little way I didn't fuck something up makes me happy.