the (only) fun part about moving in the dead of winter this year was having no idea what my front yard would look like come spring. spring, however, hath come, and the contents of the garden have only just, sort of, become clear. the daffodils finally popped, i can see the scraggly skeletons of a few rose bushes, and i’m almost 90% sure the big tree near the sidewalk is a maple. i did admittedly cheat for the latter discovery with google maps street view.
you’re probably sick of me going on about the weather but unfortunately, like time, it’s a constant that never concedes its relevance. helena of griefbacon was not lying when she said everything is about the weather.
a lot of people who don’t live in utah hear me complain about all this snow and think i’m being ungrateful, because they’re skiers or snowboarders or whatever, and wouldn’t they just give anything to be up here shredding the gnar. i like to ski. love it, even. but nothing, i repeat, nothing, is worth waking up to snow on your daffodils.
the continued absence of a committed spring while being forced to watch every single other person in the northern hemisphere post their picnics on the internet is decidedly the worst kind of fomo, because while i can get over missing a party or a concert i cannot weaponize self-care in treating my objective lack of vitamin D.
this post is a day late this week on account of a quick jaunt down to southern utah, where we attempted to address said D-ficiency by spending monday and tuesday drinking dos equis limon y sal in the sun, getting neon orange sand in unimaginable places, and listening to the frogs outside our campsite have their annual mating season orgy in the shallows. on tuesday morning, we went out and bought earplugs. the volume of their ecstasy was that excessive.
we spent a lot of time sitting on our desert beach, in awe of the mountains still capped with white on the horizon. after returning from miami like a boiled lobster i was extra cautious with my sunscreen, for the first time in my life deeply thoughtful of the skin i’m in. maybe it’s the “getting older” or my sister’s employment at a dermatology clinic, but suddenly i’m aware of my own fragility, my own capacity to wither like the worn and leathery women who passed like NPCs through the peripherals of my floridian childhood. i’m not afraid of aging but i do have tattoos. i’d prefer them to be decipherable for as long as possible.
okay, i’ll say one nice thing about the snow. eventually, it turns back into water, which ends up making a variety of beautiful and special places appear even more beautiful and special. watching a river rage through the red rock with niagara-level force is nothing short of staggering, seeing such a scarce thing in such volume, moving with primal intention, everything getting, as always, where it needs to go. dipping my toes into the falls i wondered if what i’d touched might find me again someday, a question i keep asking with a mindless sort of hope, the unknown always flimsy and abstract until it isn’t.
by the fire i watched the changing reflection of the sunset on the lake, trying so hard to think about nothing. i believe it should be illegal to have service while camping, unless you need to google what time the frogs will stop croaking. i love the first hours of phonelessness where it feels genuinely scary; what will become of you without a feed to refresh? they say remember when you wanted what you have right now, a sentiment akin in its idealism to live laugh love. the thing is i can’t recall asking for anything, and i got what i have all the same.
i assume we’ve all read the manifestation manifesto – you have to be a special kind of cynic to stomp your dreams into the dirt. it’s not that i don’t think i can get what i want, i just don’t want to wish for the wrong thing. i don’t want to send santa an empty envelope. i don’t want to leave the candles burning on my cake. lately all i can think about is the time dancing by, and if i knew what i wanted, would i have it by now?
it’s still snowing, my coffee’s gone, i have to get ready for work. i hope lots of things but mostly that the daffodils aren’t dead by dusk.
How's your daffodil doing? Your rendition of the SU excursion brought me right there. Thanks for that, and the reminder that I need to head south again soon! <3
allie, this one genuinely had me laughing out loud at parts. amazing as always. hoping true spring comes to you with a quickness <3 xoxo - simona