The bradford pears and the redbuds bloomed early this year. I don’t know if there is any significance to this phenomenon, but it has left me feeling off kilter.
In springs past, when I finally spot the redbuds blooming on their black branches, it meant the long dark of winter had passed; that I could breathe deep the sun that floods my cells with vitamin d.
But now, with early blooms being ripped from bending, swaying branches, I feel gutted – not knowing if it is time to breathe or if I still need to hide in layers of wool and thick cotton.
I spent the month of Love coughing and spitting and praying the weather would stop changing.
Every time it does (hot to cold, cold to hot), my body decides to fill my sinuses with snot and then tries everything in its power to keep me from getting said snot out.
And I’m left to snort olbas oil up my nose, prop myself up on cold meds, mouth breathe, and take a covid test at least twice a week.
There were some bright spots: my boys took care of me and put all those ‘independent living’ lessons to good use, the daffodils bloomed and then promptly shivered in the rain and the snow, I ate food that nourished as well as comforted me and I didn’t worry about a single calorie.
I do worry we are being fooled by these early warm days and a second winter will wrap its icy claws around us when you come to call.
Is it global warming? Does Mother Earth need to lay off the sauce? Is it just par for the course in these changing days? Whatever it is, my sinuses need relief. So much relief.
So, if at all possible, could you get it together and stick to gradually increasing the temperatures instead of swinging wildly between winter and late spring? Pretty please, you beautiful lionlamb?
Sarah Stoltzfus Allen 