The unfunniest season

Spring isn't funny.

Spring hits me hard and deep, it's a time when the world opens and becomes fertile to change and possibilities are endless. I find this overwhelming. The suffocating cloak of winter falls, leaving us laid bare - no excuses, no tunnel-vision. Spring reminds me every year that it's all us. What we want, who we want to be is in our control. It's like holding handfuls of rich soil, it's everything we need - what will we do with it?

This time of year I take lots of hot baths and listen to the same one or two songs over and over - slow, poignant songs that remind me of the paradoxical magnitude of our tiny little lives, the beauty of our awkward and ignorant journey, the way that deep sorrow and deep joy feel exactly the same in my heart and eyes. It's not funny. It doesn't feel funny, anyway. Though I know I'll read this in a month, laugh at the idiocy of my blather and spit summer beer all over the keyboard.

It's coming, after all...SHANUKAH is coming. Saturday, June 17th. Driveway...Lobsters...You.

This year, featuring much less vomit! (And I am bound and determined to finish up with Hobbit breakfast at Pickerel lake.)