Corners

 By Maryanna Gabriel

The froggies are out. They hum in a chorus as they mate, here in the forest. I love the sound, ever a signal Easter is here. This morning I was out walking early, and there was the addition of percussion. First one woodpecker tapped from on high in a Douglas Fir. Then another. And another answered from a forest further away. It is as if they are saying, "I am here." A forest orchestration.

I am also thrilled a wild lily I transplanted is blooming. It took a couple of years for this transplant to find the courage to show itself. Little purple violets are also peeping shyly through the rubble of winter as I strive to clear the garden. 

I have found myself emerging from an intense three months which are over, thank goodness, as I round yet another term at Dalhousie University working on a creative writing degree. Corners seem to be needing attention. There is dusting, cleaning, polishing, sorting, and washing of all sorts to do. It is spring after all.

I am enjoying the bustle of new life surging around me after the long winter. Buds are on everything and yesterday I planted new potatoes. It is so good to see the fresh green and a dusting of pollen from the alders is falling softly everywhere, on everything.  

Best Before Date

 By Maryanna Gabriel

I seem to have hit my best before date. All of this sitting and writing is making my knees creak. C'mon, I tell myself, you can't just sit all day and bandy words about this way and that. The body is meant to move. How many urges to get up and move have I stifled in order to meet deadlines? Many. The body is forgiving but it only goes so far. I may have hit my best before date. 

This morning the vacuum cleaner is poised in the kitchen midway through the job. I shut it off because I thought of a sentence that needed to be added to the book I am working on. I am hoping I can finish the living room soon. Hard to say. Sentences appear unbidden. 

It is strange to be writing about walking and sit while doing it. On the good side, this time of year when time seems to stand still and I feel like I am getting nowhere, the season is shifting. It is spring. A nearby plum tree is in blossom. Progress is being made.

The flowers had almost made it through but the last cold snap did them in. The robin who was beating away at the window has fluttered off to more fecund fields, presumably an actual robin, to nest with. This is good.

I find poles help. Well, off I go then.  Vacuuming, writing, ...er, or is that walking?