Spring is here. Granted we have some cold nights and mornings but temperatures for the most part hover in the 60s. Everything is budding. The trees not covered in flowers are covered in green buds. We've even had a few violent storms I've come to associate with summer.
This is killing any motivation to work on the thesis. Mostly I want to go outside.Yesterday I sat around at a birthday party, outside with parent friends, drinking cold beer, watching our assorted children bounce around in a bouncy house. Much more fun then working on a thesis which I did for a couple hours this morning. I've realized that I need to work early because if I don't spring will lure me outside.
Spring is a demanding mistress. I rank her with Fall. But only Fall in Maine. Fall in Maine is glorious. And Spring in Maine...while not glorious it is certainly welcomed. But Spring takes so long in Maine. And it is muddy. For a long time. By the time Spring is really upon you, it's summer.
Spring in the South? Glorious. It comes suddenly. One day you're sneezing, red-eyed itchy, sinus exploding. Spring. And you look out, and the trees have gone mad. They are adorned in white flowers that look like flames. Flowers are everywhere--formal, uptight, needy tulips along with wild violets and scraggly dandelions. The unflowering trees bare tiny buds waiting to unfurl into green leaves. There is so much green after the ugly brown of winter.
Maybe this is the key. Winter in Maine is beautiful. It is an ice beauty--cold, hard, and unapprocalbe. She will rebuff you. Maine winter invites you to admire but not touch. You're not going to make love to this lady. Here winter is just ugly. In Maine, a glorious white shroud covers the dead. Here the corpse is laid out in its rotten decomposition.
When Spring comes here, you witness her raising the dead. In Maine, this resurrection is like a strip tease. The snow slowly uncovers the growing, one small item of clothing at a time. In the South, Spring jumps on you with complete abandon. She jumps so hard you can breath! Suddenly you're enwrapped in floral scents, warm sun, and the lithe body of youngness. Everywhere you turn Spring thrust s out her beauty--full fledged lust. You can't resist her, and you find yourself bursting out the door like a fool with your arms open and a stupid grin on your face.
And the joy you hear in my words? You can thank Horacio for that...well Horacio through Yeasayer. This band fills me with joy...the joy that you're not going to live forever so you better fucking live now. Combined with Spring...and I'm out that door...