Kindnesses

Small Kindnesses
Danusha Laméris

I've been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say "bless you"
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. "Don't die," we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don't want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, "Here,
have my seat," "Go ahead—you first," "I like your hat."

I have been thinking about all the superlatives we like to use on Mother's Day. In fact, superlatives seem to be such a core of American cultural expression. I found these in no time on actual Mother's Day cards online: the best mother ever; celebrating the most amazing mother you are; I am the luckiest son (or daughter) in the world; thank you for making our home the happiest place to grow up.

Of course, motherhood has taught me all about the sacrifice involved and how some of us (on some days, in particular) do the job far worse than others. I just think we have a tendency to glorify parenthood, when in reality there isn't anything of great value in life that doesn't require a tremendous amount of work and sacrifice -- parenthood is simply one of those things that many but not all of us choose to do. Many people laudably choose to "parent" a cause or endeavor instead of or on top of parenting children.

The outcome of such superlative language around mothering and fathering makes us view the task as heroic or exceptional or mythical. In reality, parenting is far more about the everyday, putting in the hours on a consistent daily basis as if we were working to play professional basketball or gain fluency in a foreign language or make a discovery or create a masterpiece -- 10,000 hours to master a skill. The only difference is that the 10,000 hours are focused on nurturing another human being.

Instead of shooting the ball or conjugating the verbs or crunching the data or stroking the brush, mothering is about showing up and performing an infinite number of kindnesses, acts performed solely for the care and well being of another. Think of the diaper changes and hours of rocking, the meals prepared and fed one spoonful at a time, the books read over and over and over again. Or, the words of reassurance or encouragement or expectations or insight. The holding of a hand, the hand to the forehead, the hand rubbing suntan lotion. All the times you brushed hair, washed clothes, wrapped gifts, planned outings, said "no" even though saying "yes" would have been easier and happier all the way around. I could go on and on.

As someone whose own mother decided that she just didn't have it in her to show up anymore when I was five, I know how very average yet incredibly invaluable the act of showing up as a parent can be. Being present and paying attention and giving of yourself in the smallest and most important ways has never been more exhausting than now when our village for raising a child has shrunk tremendously overnight. Yet, let's not glorify it and raise the bar so high for some imaginary perfection such that we break the parenting spirit. Let's be kind and forgiving to one another and ourselves, let's be kind and forgiving to our children, let's all remember that life's kindnesses are transformative and revolutionary acts -- more than enough for a very happy Mother's Day.

#10: Schooling

My last post reminded me how important it is for every child to have adults who invest consistently and fully into their well being. Given that my mom left when I was five and just entering Kindergarten, the female teachers I had in elementary school played a particularly important role in my life. I went to Dixon Elementary School for seven years, had a female teacher each year, and connected closely with each one except for my fifth grade teacher, a large and harsh teacher, whose presence intimidated me. Overall, my elementary school "schooling" provide me not only with an education but also with a safe environment. I was nurtured and found space to develop a sense of self.

I began to write down my most significant memories for each grade of elementary school. What fun! I am extremely grateful to these teachers for their expertise and kindness and know they likely inspired my interest in the profession of education as well. Perhaps my memories will remind you of your schooling for as much as education seems to change in America the framework of schooling remains the same, too.

Half-Day Kindergarten -- Miss Thompson:

• Art Easels; low round tables and chairs; wooden cubbies with hooks for our belongings; a rug for class gatherings; a wooden play kitchen; a bathroom in the classroom; a sink for clean up after doing art
• The competition for a tricycle at recess; jump ropes and red, rubber balls
• Naps and graham crackers and milk for snack
• Memorizing your name, address, and phone number to get a small candy cane at Christmas

First Grade -- Mrs. Luft:

• Wooden desks with chairs attached in rows
• SRA Reading Cards
• How I cried when we made Mother's Day cards, and Mrs. Luft suggested I make one for my aunt
• How Kris Krieger, who lived down the street from me and sat by me in class, drank his school glue and had to be sent to the nurse
• Sharpening pencils with a Sampson manual pencil sharpener attached to the wall by the door with a wastebasket beneath for dumping the shavings; I loved to sharpen my pencil, first fat and then thin; pens came sparingly much later

Second Grade -- Mrs. White:

• Four square and hop scotch
• Learning cursive, letter by letter, first small than capital; practicing on the chalkboard and then on manilla paper both with double solid lines divided by a dashed line; I thought it was very cool that our teacher had a special chalk holder that you ran across the chalkboard to make the lines
• Getting the stomach flu and throwing up in the hallway bubbler; having to go home sick which I never, ever wanted to do, because it felt like a burden to my dad or aunt and uncle (my aunt didn't learn to drive until well into her 60's) who had to come and get me; in the same vein, I was terrified that I might miss the bus home
• Loving art class which was done in the art room with the art teacher instead of in your regular class

Third Grade -- Mrs. Runkle:

• Learning multiplication and division; taking timed computation tests of 50 questions of addition through division to make sure you learned them thoroughly; getting stars by your name on a poster for each 100%; competing to get the most stars
• Kick ball on the playing fields outside at recess beside the dirt, concrete, and asphalt playground with insect structures and box-like concrete climbers that would never pass a safety test today
• Planning to marry the only black boy in school at recess until somehow I got the message at home and/or school that it wasn't a good idea -- can you say racism?; our friendship and our plans fell apart 
• How the entire school assembled in the gym to watch movies like Born Free, fire safety with Dick Van Dyke, and environmental movies from Smokey the Bear, Woodsy the Owl, and the Keep America Beautiful series

Fourth Grade -- Mrs. Erickson:

• How Mrs. Erickson read to us every day after recess for 20 minutes, including the book Watership Down, which I loved
• Researching and making informational books on birds and the state of Wisconsin, including pictures we would color
• Running the 50 yard dash at recess, competing against the fastest kid in class, Randy Roth (I had a crush on him!)
• Loving the school library -- I can still see its layout and shelves now, particularly the sections where I discovered favorite chapter books
• Desks marked with name cards and lifting lids where you stored your school supplies
• Spelling tests

Fifth Grade -- Mrs. Schmidt (we called her "Big Fat" Mrs. Schmidt to differentiate her from the 6th grade teacher Mrs. Schmidt who was slim and petite and also my teacher -- not so proud of that):

• The presidential, physical fitness test -- I hated the chin ups and mile run
• All the math problems on area and perimeter that Mrs. Schmidt made up about her dog's crates and fences; she was my first teacher who yelled at the students and really frightened me
• Diagramming sentences which never made sense to me -- I don't think I ever really learned English grammar until I formally studied the German language
• Scoliosis testing, vision and hearing tests, and vaccines at various times through the years
• Gifted and Talented Class several times a week with Mrs. Navin, a more stoic female version of Mr. Rogers, throughout elementary school

Sixth Grade -- Mrs. Schmidt:

• How biased our gym teacher was in favor of the athletic kids, particularly the boys; how we picked teams, and I was always among those picked last
• Hot lunch always included a carton of milk and hot food, often casseroles, with a veggie; you couldn't leave until you ate everything, so we used to try to shove things we didn't like into our milk cartons while the lunch monitors weren't watching
• Switching classes for math with Mr. Rosenthal (we called him Rosie Toes), who had quite a temper
• Doing a unit on weather and becoming meteorologists by monitoring temperature, barometric weather, etc. on charts long-term and using the data to do science; launching weather balloons
• Overhead projectors and screens; pull down maps

An excerpt from “Spring Glen Grammar School”

Donald Hall

For weeks we learned
the alphabet—practicing it, reciting
             in unison singsong,
printing letters in block capitals
             on paper with wide blue
lines, responding out loud to flash cards.
             Then she said: "Tomorrow
you learn to read."
                              Miss Stephanie Ford
             wrote on the blackboard
in large square letters: T H A T. "That,"
             she said, gesticulating
with her wooden pointer, "is 'that.'"

             Each year began
in September with a new room and a new
             teacher: I started with
Stephanie Ford, then Miss Flint, Miss Gold,
              Miss Sudel whom I loved,
Miss Stroker, Miss Fehm, Miss Pikosky...
             I was announcer
at assemblies. I was elected class
             president not because
I was popular but because I
             was polite to grown-ups, spoke
distinctly, held my hands straight down
             at my sides, and kept
my shirt tucked in: I was presidential.

Chatter

I walked abroad in a snowy day;

I asked the soft snow with me to play…

William Blake

Today is a snow day, a play day, a day with an excuse to slow down. A day to putter about in our pajamas, if we like with no agenda or a moving agenda or an agenda of our very own design from top to bottom. A day to sip slowly hot drinks like hot cocoa, steaming peppermint tea, and hot cider. A day to watch a favorite movie or read a good book from cover to cover while under the covers, a favorite down comforter in bed or a wool throw on the couch. A day to get lost in a world as fantastic as the falling snow outside NOLD as night approaches, snowflakes catching the flash to sparkle like magic stardust. A day to dream and mingle with one's thoughts for a few extra minutes with the encouragement of the surrounding quiet. 

Winter seems to be digging in its heels as is typical for February in the Northeast. I swing from feeling tired of the darkness, the cold, the muck, the gear, the day-in-day-out effort and feeling grateful for the beauty, the fresh air, the stillness, the slowness, the seasonal cycle that prepares nature to burst forth and bring forth in short order. I will muddle through awash in ideas and words and hope. Even in the midst of a snowstorm, The Little Free Library soldiers on and poetry bursts forth with pen in hand, a haiku the gift:

flurries fall daily

air alight in thick stillness

my thoughts chatter on

Spritz

The holidays are filled with traditions. Religious traditions take on deep meaning for some people this time of year, but I am talking about the traditions we create in our own homes with our own immediate family. Some things get passed down and enjoyed by several generations like spritz cookies at NOLD.

I remember making them as a child and was delighted to find a cookie press at a garage sale long ago before my husband and I even had children. Not one of the new plastic cookie presses found in all the stores these days, but an aluminum cookie press from Mirro still in the original box. Then, I found another one after my second daughter was born; I want to pass one down to each of them.

My spritzer cookie recipe includes brown sugar and almond extract, although I have seen many different versions in print and online. And, I love coloring the dough to celebrate the season and enhance the visual presentation of the cookies.

I remember watching in amazement as a young child how the dough would come out of the mold in beautiful shapes. Once they filled the baking sheet, we could help decorate them with sprinkles of all sorts, usually heavily. As a child, more was certainly better.

Making spritz cookies at Christmas brings me great joy. I put on the carols and sing along. The kitchen gets toasty warm from the oven. The smell of butter and sugar baking waft into the air, and I am overwhelmed with gratitude. What fun!

Really, I could be playing with blocks or toy soldiers, but I am playing with dough and a press instead. I have made all sorts of cookies already this year, but I am saving cut out cookies and spritz cookies to make with my girls now that school has ended. I can see how much they already appreciate and look forward to our traditions. The time together is priceless.

Christmas trees are my favorite whether filled with ornaments or as spritz cookies with milk. Beautiful, don't you agree?

Welcome

In April what you see is your own intentions. In October you see their unexpected wreck and fulfillment. (171) The Rural Life by Verlyn Klinkenborg

One letter changes unseasonable to unreasonable. Somehow that thought entered my mind last week as I struggled to stay awake long enough to read five pages, just five simple pages. I guess what I am really trying to say is that it doesn't take much to throw me off of my routine and best intentions. Our family life is full on a regular basis. Add a few more things to our plate, and our hectic pace becomes frenetic. This has been the ongoing story for the last month, perhaps longer.

So many of the goals I set in April have simply not been met like the books I had hoped to read, the gardening and cooking I had hoped to accomplish, the words I had hoped to write. Of course, our family time has been great (including hosting an exchange student), the traveling was memorable and rejuvenating, and plenty of work of all sorts has been accomplished. Yet, October is perhaps my favorite month and this unseasonable busyness has felt unreasonable to the very core.

In the waning days of October, I returned home one evening as the sky turned luminescent, and I found myself looking forward to breathing in some cold air, the cold air that generally arrives along with November. I found myself thinking, "Welcome November." Before I knew it, the new month blew in yesterday with north wind and hints of snowfall. I breathed in deeply with gratitude for I actually see space on the calendar despite the upcoming holidays such that November looks promising, and a new set of intentions is already percolating.....

Of course, November must begin with comfort food, hearty meals that stick to the ribs and provide sustenance to brace the cold, head into the wind. So, here are a few dishes to put on the family dinner table or share with friends in front of the fire. Falling temperatures and shortening days require we nurture ourselves in the most basic of ways, so we can welcome the coming season with gusto. Enjoy!

Oat Bran and Zucchini Turkey Meatloaf

2 teaspoons vegetable oil

2 cups grated zucchini

1 medium yellow onion, minced

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 pounds ground turkey (or, 1 pound ground turkey and 1 pound ground beef)

¾ cup oat bran

1 egg, lightly beaten

3 tablespoons tomato paste

1 tablespoon brown sugar

1 tablespoon minced fresh thyme or rosemary

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

1 teaspoon table salt

½ teaspoon ground black pepper

1. Heat oil in skillet and cook zucchini and onion about 10 minutes, or until softened. Add garlic, and sauté for 1 minute more. Remove from heat.
2. Combine sautéed vegetables with remaining ingredients and place in a meatloaf-baking pan. Bake at 350ºF for 1 hour.  Let stand 10 minutes before serving.

Yield: 8 to 10 slices

North African Beef Pot Roast

1 ½ tablespoons olive oil

1 (3-pound) chuck roast, well trimmed of fat

1 teaspoon sea salt

½ teaspoon ground black pepper

2 large leeks, cleaned, trimmed, and chopped

6 carrots (about 1 pound), peeled, trimmed, and cut into 2-inch-long portions

2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

2 tablespoons ground paprika

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

2 teaspoons ground cumin

Leaves from one large sprig of tarragon

4 cups (32 ounces) beef or vegetable broth

1 (15-ounce) can chickpeas, rinsed and drained

1 cup chopped dried apricots

1 cup golden raisins

½ cup chopped fresh cilantro

¼ cup chopped fresh mint

1. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-duty roaster or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Sprinkle roast with sea salt and pepper. Sear roast in pan, about 4 minutes per side or until well browned. Remove from pan and set aside.
2. Add leeks, carrots, and garlic cloves to pan, and cook, stirring constantly, for 3 minutes. Combine paprika, cinnamon, cumin, and tarragon leaves in a small bowl; add to vegetables, and cook, stirring constantly, about 2 more minutes. Add broth, and return roast to pan.
3. Cover and bake at 325˚F for 3 to 3 ½ hours or until fork-tender. Remove from oven.
4. Add chickpeas, apricots, raisins, cilantro, and mint. Stir gently to combine and return to oven for 10 to 15 minutes or until ingredients are fully heated and flavors combined.

Yield: 8 generous servings

Fall

When I write, I tend to utilize the word autumn more often than fall. Autumn reads with clarity, a noun specific to a season. Fall may be used as noun or verb, is more nuanced and less precise, and seems to tend toward negativity.

Yet, fall does imply movement and evolution as in to fall, falling, and fallen. The word does capture the seasonality of the moment exceptionally well: the changing of seasons, the harvesting of food, the storing and preparing, the slowing and gathering, the reflecting and planning.

I have been falling myself these days, I have been changing bedding, putting the summer quilts away and pulling out the down comforters. I am securing the storm windows and door frames at NOLD, which still has its original wrought iron windows and arched doorway and tends towards draftiness. I am wearing the rich colors of fallow soil in layers and natural fibers for the unpredictable weather that may bring brisk winds and warm sun in short order.

My reasoning may be fallacious these days as time flies by weeding and clearing beds in the garden, meaning the dust collects in the house and blog posts fall by the wayside. So much falls through the cracks as visitors arrive before the snow flies and the fresh air of cold north winds causes me to fall into bed at night in complete exhaustion.

Like so many, I have fallen in love with October, its colors and skies, the landscape, the rituals and happenings, the smells and flavors. Of course, I have been active in the kitchen and my cooking is one thing that hasn't fallen away but rather has been transformed with the season and, as a result, been reinvigorated.

Lest I fall into a stupor and forget my original intent here, let me share a few recipes before darkness falls and my play with language tries your patience such that you fall away. No, no, I say! Instead, let's cook with the flavors of autumn, whole grains and apples, and leave fall for another day.

Applesauce Mini Cake Donuts

1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour

½ cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon salt

½ cup milk

⅓ cup buttermilk

¼ cup applesauce

½ teaspoon vanilla

1 egg white, lightly beaten

1.           Coat mini-donut pan with oil or butter. Set aside.

2.           In a small bowl, combine flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

3.           In a large bowl, beat together milk, buttermilk, applesauce, and vanilla.

4.           Fold flour mixture into wet ingredients until just moistened; fold in egg white.

5.           Add 1 tablespoon batter per mold, leaving the center peg showing above the batter.

6.           Bake at 400°F for 10 minutes, until dough springs back to the touch.

7.           Remove from oven and cool 2 minutes; loosen and remove donuts.

8.           While still warm, coat donuts in granulated sugar (which may be combined with cinnamon) or confectioners’ sugar.

Yield: 3 dozen

Granola

2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats

½ cup sunflower or pumpkin seeds

½ cup chopped pecans or walnuts or sliced/slivered almonds

½ cup unsweetened shredded coconut

⅔ cup honey or maple syrup or brown sugar

¼ cup olive oil
2 tablespoons apple juice or cider

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground allspice

1 pinch ground nutmeg

1 pinch sea salt

½ cup dried fruit: chopped apricots, blueberries, sweet cherries, sweetened cranberries, currants, or raisins

1. Combine oats, seeds, nuts, and coconut in a large bowl.
2. In a small bowl, whisk together syrup or honey, juice or cider, olive oil, vanilla extract, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, and salt. Pour over dry ingredients in large bowl and toss until well combined.
3. Spread out evenly on a baking sheet coated with cooking spray. Bake at 350˚for 10 minutes, stir, and bake 10 more minutes. Brown further, if desired. Remove from the oven and stir again.
4. Cool completely, stir in dried fruit, and store in an airtight container.

Yield: 1 quart

Millet Bread

5 teaspoons active dry yeast

2 cups warm water

3 tablespoons honey

3 tablespoons molasses

2 ½ cups whole wheat bread flour

1 cup rye flour

2 teaspoons salt

1 cup millet

1 ½ to 2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1. Mix yeast, water, honey, and molasses in the bowl of a standing mixer with a dough hook until well combined. Add whole-wheat bread flour, and stir until well combined. Add rye flour and salt, and stir until well combined. Add millet and mix well. Finally, add enough of the unbleached all-purpose flour (about 1 ½ cups) to make a fairly firm dough. Let dough rest for 15 minutes.
2. Knead dough with bread hook until elastic, about 5 minutes, adding more unbleached all-purpose flour as needed. Dough should feel slightly sticky and spring to the touch.
3. Place dough in bowl covered with a kitchen towel. Let rise in a warm spot until doubled in size, about 1 ½ hours.
4. Oil two bread pans. Punch dough down, divide in half, and shape into two loaves. Place loaves into prepared bread pans, cover with a kitchen towel, and let rise until doubled in size again, about 1 hour.
5. Slash tops of loaves with a sharp knife, if desired. Bake at 400°F until golden and sound hollow when tapped, about 30 minutes.
6. Remove from oven and turn out onto wire racks to cool.

Yield: 2 loaves

Note: Millet gives this bread a wonderful forgiving crunch which toasts well. Millet Bread is adapted from a recipe of the same name in Farmhouse Cookbook by Susan Herrmann Loomis.

***

Oh, and just one small poem from my fall brain....

A Single Cause

Yesterday, under brilliant sun and blue sky, the wind picked up and sent autumnal leaves into a frenzied dance of absolution.

I paused in the garden like the rodents that work alongside me, often at odds, with senses on high alert, when hawk circles the neighborhood, hungry.

I turned my face upward into the circling chaos raining down from above as yellow whisked past my cheeks and caught in my hair.

Faith has never been my cause despite the best efforts of my youth, but joy, simple and complete such as this fuels faith in a single cause:

To live in relation to other by letting go completely and seeing what might possibly grow as unimaginable as the outcome might be.

Expectancy

If this time of year is rich in anything, it's rich in expectancy. Everything in nature seems ready to stir, and yet the only thing visibly stirring so far is daylight itself, which is steadily undoing winter. Cold weather has kept the lid on the garden, and the few ambitious shoots that have shown to date seem to be thinking better of it..... Some people plan for the winter, and some people plan for the spring. (34-35)

The Rural Life ~ Verlyn Klinkenborg

My mind is as frozen as the earth this year. My writing and creativity and energy all evade me at a time of year when I usually feel I am bursting with inventiveness and activity. I know that I am not alone; almost everyone I know feels the same way. I am working my way through disappointment in myself to acceptance to celebration: I am starting slow but gathering speed.

Here is what I have accomplished:

• Spring Cleaning: I am beginning by decluttering and rearranging all the chaos that seems to seep into the house in the winter. Then, I will move onto some deep spring cleaning, including changing linens, washing windows, and exchanging wardrobes.
• House Projects: Spring cleaning is setting the stage for a few house projects on deck. I am beginning with recaulking several bathrooms and hope to get some painting done this spring again as we continue to make NOLD our own. I am also choosing paint colors which is never an easy process for me.
• Yard Work: I have just begun to clear debris, leaves, and dead foliage, a never ending process. And, my professor husband helped me prune our dear Asian pear tree as well as a few rhododendron neglected last fall.
• Exercise: If the weather and my schedule provide an opening, I am committed to getting outside for yard work or exercise.
• Writing: I have returned to my writing group as well as this blog and the darn cookbook with limited success -- plodding but working at it.
• Kitchen: I have been enjoying my time in the kitchen immensely. I am moving beyond yogurt and hoping to return to bread making of the yeasted variety. I am also trying a handful of new chicken recipes, healthy and straightforward dishes to add to the dinner repertoire. And, I have been trying to prepare a few staples and sweet treats to have around the house regularly.

Just writing down my endeavors has helped -- I am making progress, particularly in light of everything else that crosses the path of this everyday life I lead. I am rich in expectancy and planning for spring, not stuck in winter's grip. I am going to say goodbye to March and raise a glass to the arrival of April this week -- so much good to come next month.

As I work away in the kitchen, I get a good view of our back yard through the glass patio doors. The birds are returning: the songbirds, including two sets of cardinals, the geese, the robins, the hawks. I spotted a small one perched in a Japanese maple on the front side of the house, silencing the rest of the inhabitants of NOLD.

And, the red-tailed hawks have returned to their campus nest, laying three beautiful eggs which the Lab of Ornithology allows us to view in real time for a different sort of expectancy. Check it out -- a bird cam gem.

March

Here it is the second week of March already. I am back after finishing my seasonal work at the university last week and regrouping. I survived the tough winter, although it isn't finished with us yet. We are getting snow and bitter cold tomorrow, but temperatures are now fluctuating and beginning to rise well above freezing on occasion, too.

Today, for example, was gorgeous. Everyone was out with the sun, including the chipmunks, who provided Freddy with hours of entertainment on the other side of the patio doors. Numerous fallen branches magically appeared as the snow melted. I even saw a bee out and about as I did a bit of cleanup in one of the back beds. So, I joined in the revelry, no jacket required, and went out to prune NOLD's beloved pear tree as well as a couple of rhododendron I had missed last fall.

I was able to check off one small task from an unbelievably long to do list I made last week. Winter and work stunned me into silence and relative inaction this time around. One moment I felt like hibernating and the next like sprinting to the finish to get work and the essentials of our family life completed. So, I am getting my feet back under me in this time of year, which is in various ways the month of March. Yet, the words still flow and cheer the soul with the passing of the days as well as the Ides.

March On

Voices lost in snow

Bodies wrapped in down

Lungs filled with cold

Steps slowed with care

March on, march on

Arctic air drops down South uninvited

Flakes fall frenzied and unappreciated

White no longer speaks to the soul

Deep slumber eludes the long nights

March on, march on

Sun stops mid-day, radiant at the window

Soil awakens to a slow drip from the eves

Stream trips and falls, calling for attention

Spirit thaws in anticipation and takes flight

March on, march on

Green once unseen springs forth eternal

Tulips shout in chorus below the mailbox

Nests wait empty but certain in thick branches

Day stretches and sends moon for cloudy cover

March on, march on

Voices raised in song

Bodies freed to breathe

Lungs filled with scent

Steps danced in time

March on, march on