The spring makes me want to read poetry . The season comes in so gently that it seems to sneak up on you, like a romance you couldn’t have planned. The light of spring fills the heart up with contentment and gratitude. Violets bloom and birds nest-and the rabbit patch gets cleaned until it sparkles and smells like lavender. It is no small event, but for some odd reason, I do not find it an unpleasant task.
I am convinced that a good deal of the rabbit patch around “Sweet Home” is in the house. It is behind the piano, under furniture and on those wide baseboards the old houses have. I never know how or when it happens, but it does. The “Holiday” cleaning obviously did not take or maybe it was a temporary state of affairs, only. All I know for sure, is that there is no rhyme or reason for what I have seen today.
I sing a lot of praises about the benefits of country life-and they are all true, but country dwelling comes with a price. The March wind deposits some of those beautiful wheat fields inside my kitchen every chance it gets. A bird comes with it several times a year.
Firewood bits seem to have a life of their own and show up in the oddest places along with the once fresh pine needles that I brought in at Christmas. Of course, I do blame Christopher Robin for some of that as he was sure that such things were brought in for his benefit. He napped today while I was “tearing up the house” and the dogs did too, not even amused with the big production I was putting on. I love to see them sleep though and took great comfort knowing they are part of the rabbit patch way of life.
I always cook a supper that needs to simmer when spring cleaning. It just makes things go easier, if the kitchen smells like “home-cooked” fare. Even the hum of the washing machine means progress and acts like a tonic on me. Linens will have a faint scent of lavender. Curtains will too. The clothesline adds the smell of sunshine and is worth the time it takes to hang things out. Thank goodness for a still day so the pollen stays put.
Every season demands that I make a gallant effort to put the rabbit patch in order. Every act performed today will need to be repeated, and often.( A big part of the summer garden will also end up in “Sweet Home” .) When I am weary of the relentless way of country life, I renew my vow to down-size in the future. But when twilight comes and the air stirs just enough to whisper through the curtains- then a lavender breeze will drift through “Sweet Home” like a song-and that is something else to love.