My Cabinet of Distractions

For now, my world is these spots of green, these shoots of new, dotted with fuzz and damp. Sharpnesses go soft; ground prepares to disappear for the next half-year. I pass the woods daily, wonder whether I should tramp and traipse and risk mud and groundsink before the poisonous weeds block me for the summer. Instead I strain toward tiny leaves, crouch to fallen blossoms, watch the world seed itself over. Instead I get closer to what I can already reach. Instead I practice focus. Instead I fight the impulse to autopilot.

He has been out there for just as long as this blog has been alive, and so this March marks the fourth time he's waited to welcome you to spring.

It's been a day for feeling my way through things, which is a more difficult and more worthwhile process than the kinds of fixes for which I reached when I was younger and knew less.