Touching Spring

One of my lilac bushes overflowing with buds!

One of my lilac bushes overflowing with buds!

This past winter was rough. Never ending snow and cold and misery. I looked hopefully forward to spring and warmth and when it finally seemed to arrive I was ecstatic! Alas then the cold returned and just this past Saturday it snowed. I had a lot of writing work to do this weekend so staying inside was fine but I didn’t enjoy seeing flakes blowing past my windows the third week of April. I know there have been winter storms in May before where I live and I remember them less than fondly. I have no desire or energy for that.

When it has warmed up periodically this “spring” I’ve rejoiced in the golden sunshine and bright blue skies. All the trees are budded out eager to release leaves and my beloved lilacs will have a bumper crop this year! If only it would warm up and say warm!

Lilacs are my favorite flower. I grew up with an entire row of them growing behind my childhood home. Their sweet fragrance in the spring still evokes happy memories and I could lay beneath their lavender and white blossoms for hours contentedly. Last year almost all of my beautiful blooms wilted and expired because the weather warmed up way too early in March and then got so cold the night-time frost damaged the flowers beyond recovery. So this year I am hoping for redemption! I want to be able to hold bushels of lovely lilacs in my hands and bury my nose in them until I’m intoxicated by their natural perfume.

For now I must wait because Mama Nature is grumpy after the winter and is less than forthcoming with consistent warmth. I’ve joked with my friends that someone needs to get Mama Nature some chocolate or a fun spring fling to alleviate her hormonal mood swings. I am just as eager to bloom and soak up the sunshine as the flowers and trees around here. I want to do more than just touch a hint of spring here and there, I long to be completely caressed and encompassed in its renewal and beauty.


Not profound

I wanted my first blog entry in the WordPress format to be profound, insightful, deep and meaningful. I don’t know that this will be. All that matters is that I’m writing and taking credit for my own words.My favorite ghostwriting topics are landscaping, interior design and parenting, not necessarily in that order. Here’s what I know about those subjects.

Landscaping is a dirty job and hard work. It takes serious physical energy and effort to maintain my property and every single tree I have is messy in one way or another. I spent my weekend picking up branches and raking leaf sticks, pine cones and branches. That only took care of three trees on a property with over 20. I’m tired and sore and I have a long way to go. If I had the money would I pay someone to do it all for me? No. As exhausting as it can be, I have a great feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day. I look out over the areas I’ve cleaned up and I’m proud of myself. I would get no such satisfaction watching someone else do the work for me.

Interior Design
Interior design is something I wish my 18 year old self had been smart enough to go to school to study. But I wasn’t that smart then and so I’m catching up now. As far as my interior design experience goes, everything in my house is there because I like it. I choose furnishings that are affordable, attractive and functional. Almost everything hanging on the walls are paintings by me. I choose furniture in colors I love so there’s a lot of blue in my home. My style isn’t shabby chic, rustic, contemporary, modern, etc. My style is Julie.

My 18 year old self didn’t go to school to study interior design because I didn’t know then what I wanted to be aside from a wife and mother. I was a wife for 4 years before I became a mother. I was then a mother for 9 years before I stopped being a wife. I will always be a mother, it’s my favorite job in the whole world and I’m good at it, just like my 18 year old self knew I would be. I was a good wife too but I married too young before I knew who I truly was. Now that I know who I am, it’s unlikely I will ever be a wife again. That truth doesn’t make me uncomfortable or sad; it’s an acceptance of who I am.

Speaking of being a mother, it’s time to wake my darling daughters and bring this post to a close. Was this profound? I don’t know. I do know that it was me speaking my mind and being the rambling Julie that quite a few know and love.