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With rushing winds and gloomy skies
The dark and stubborn Winter dies:
Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries,
Bidding her earliest child arise; March!

—Bayard Taylor

If you don't like the weather in Sweden, just wait five minutes—that was certainly true today. We woke to blizzardly sideways snow and over the course of the day, we had sunshine, blue skies, grey skies, rain, clouds, snow again, and sunshine again. March comes in like a lion and goes out like an LOLcat. A capricious and frivolous month, for sure.

The fact that it is nearly April—April!—3 months down in the year already, is blowing my mind. Look what happens when you put your head down and forge blindly through your days! It's not just slipping away, it's positively melting. Look what happens when your mind is on what's coming up, what you're looking forward to, instead of what is happening right now. I shake my head at myself. Stop, look, listen. Sit down, slow down, take a breath, enjoy the moment.

It's those pre-spring blues, that when-will-it-ever-get-here feeling of dejection and yet, it was light until nearly 7 p.m. tonight, that brilliant fading orange across the blue of the sky as we drove to Karin's karate class, through freshly turned fields, past new construction, over the bridge behind Skarhult castle. Soon, when it's still and clear, we'll see paragliders landing in the grasses of Eslöv's little airfield. Soon, I'll be able to take my walking shoes and do the rounds on the jogger's path up behind the hill among the trees. Soon it will be more than crocus and snowdrops. That's the nice thing about the waiting for spring: it's always rewarded.

This stretchy, drum-hollow feeling will pass, as do all such things. I'm not feeling sorry for myself, not at all, it's not's more the small punches that rock your world more than you expect that have me feeling this way: a friend's diagnosis, another friend's farewell to blogging, a colleague you like that is going on maternity leave thus leaving your days that little bit less lively, the load of work, the uncertainty of financial turmoil that murmurs like an underground stream everywhere.

It's the sniping of the children at each other and at you, your gut reaction overwhelming your parental abilities and your usual good sense. You react to every flare and strike at every threat, flinch at every movement in your peripheral vision. Some days, some weeks, some months you must just put your head down and forge through, regardless of the consequences of suddenly finding yourself in April. April's not so bad, even if it rains a lot (as when does it not in Sweden). April is a harbinger, a herald and the threshold we carry ourselves over to spring. It's a reminder and a reward.

And while I know it, too, shall pass, I'm looking forward to it, even while I remind myself to live in the moment. :)

Springity Sproingity Billowy Blizzards of Belated Birthday Wishes to johann_metzger and emmabovary!
mood: mellow
music: Ingrid Michaelson—The Way I Am


You wrote this so well, the pull, the draw, the hope, but yet the passing moment. How do we do both? I don't know. I'd like to do both, though.

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lizardek's obiter photos
lizardek's obiter photos

Feeling generous? Be my guest!

I can complain because rose bushes have thorns or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.

Abraham Lincoln

obiter snippets

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Findus the cat as used in my user icon and header is the creation of Sven Nordqvist.