The Day After Winter

April 19, 2015

Sunday April morning in New England, I am at Houghton’s Pond, in Canton, Massachusetts.

Even though only it’s fifty degrees, (in reality it’s maybe fifty degrees in direct sun, probably more like forty if you actually checked on a thermometer, I don’t have that app on my phone yet,) people wear shorts, or tank tops, or flip flops.

Everywhere I look, there are shivering shoulders and chalk white thighs, pale feet, curled toes, owned by faces pointed upwards towards the sun.

While I take Sophie the Sun Starved round the water, I find myself squinting. I’m not used to all this light. I get warm fast, and tie my sweatshirt around my shoulders.

On the way home, I will pick up lawn bags, bulbs, dirt, stuff to feed the dirt, maybe a book about what to do with the bulbs and dirt, and I will celebrate the way Home Depot intended.

Or at least until I’ve gotten the yard cleared of Sophie’s leftovers, mysterious shards of plastic, and sweet musty piles of leaves. There is no snow left in our back yard.

I can handle the leftovers.

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