Tuesday, January 18, 2011

A Confession & The Dream of Spring

The things I used to like
I don't like anymore.
I want a lot of other things
I've never had before.
It's just like mother says...
I sit around and mope.
Pretending that I'm wonderful.
And knowing I'm a dope.
I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm,
I'm as jumpy as a puppet on a string.
I'd say that I had spring fever,
but I know it isn't spring.
I'm starry-eyed and vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing.
Oh, why should I have spring fever
When it isn't even spring?
...I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams,
I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing.
I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin on the wing.
But I feel so gay,
In a melancholy way,
That it might as well be spring,
It might as well be spring.

(From Rodgers & Hammerstein's State Fair.)

Confession: I was raised on a very healthy dose of Hollywood musicals. I could start a game-show called "Name That Show Tune". You name the musical, and I'll sing you the score- or at least a few of the sad-sappy-ballads or bring-down-the-house roaring refrains. Yes, yes its true- I am a musical nerd. When I was little I was just as happy to be planted next to the television singing along with the Sharks and the Jets or to Whistle a Happy Tune or pretending that I was a " Jeeazzzz Baby" (sung in my best Carol Channing voice) as I was playing outside. Small known fact that very few know about. Lets just keep that amongst us, okay? I only confess this to you because I inadvertently caught myself humming the song above when this arrived in the mail:

Ezra asked me what I was humming, and it actually took me a moment to realize what song it was. With a catalog cover like this, how can you not wish that it were spring? The first of my seed catalogs. Deeelish. (Which I highly recommend- I have always been ridiculously pleased at the seeds & plants that happily arrive at my door from them.) I love each of the seasons- really, I do- but when it rains all over your pretty snow and creates mud and a lifetime supply of unscooped dog poop, (now clearly visible) and the embarrassing pile of leaves that went unbagged- (oops) everything looks dreary and dirty and makes it so very easy to dream, (and hum) of spring.

(What is it by the way, about winter that makes you feel all restless and like there are all these things, these new possibilities to do or create or try? And how you know that they are out there, waiting for you, you just aren't sure how to go about getting to them? Darn you winter and your gray-muddy-dog-poopy days and my contemplative moods!)

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