Late Arrival

It is cold and rainy today, as it was yesterday. Still, irrepressible signs of spring spread themselves through my neighborhood: some mysterious vibrance floods lawns with green, leaflets like gauzy scarves adorn many tree limbs, and the first tulips hale this Dutch community. Spring may be late, but it is relentlessly advancing--and I am later still. I find myself running behind this unfolding riot of life and color, crying, "Wait! Slow down! I'm not ready yet!" It's like tumbling into a holiday with work still on my conscience. The austere spring of two weeks ago perfectly suited my internal landscape--square farm buildings monumented against faded sky,clear miles lined with last year's stubble, everything bleached down to clean bones atop earth enceinte with resurrection.