Smithies on Spring
Emma ’03 writes at Emmasota:
My soul needs a salad.
I’ve been feeling a little unsettled these days. Two months ago, I shared my intention for the winter season: to let things percolate. I’m usually so eager to dive into the next thing, to set the next goal, but this time, the goal was not to have a goal. Honestly, I’m starting to lose my mind.
Oh, I’ve been doing my homework—drinking lots of herbal tea and such—trying to be patient as I eye the pieces of life’s puzzle from an unsatisfying distance. But the truth is that I’m not much of a percolator, and I’m afraid that all of this sipping and seeping is driving me to a miserable existence marked by an increased consumption of simple carbohydrates.
The last thing I wanted tonight was a salad, and yet I had to have one. One more day without leafy greens, and I might have turned into a bowl of cereal. It was imperative that I build a bed of lettuce and spinach, slice a tomato, and fork my way through the vitamin-laden plate between baby-chasing intervals. “I feel like a goalie,” I said to Josh between bites. “Except there are about fourteen goals.” This is life with a crawler.
Leslee ’80 at 3rd House Journal:
Harriet ’89 at spynotes:
On the plus side, spring seems to have arrived, at least temporarily, so we were able to do some of our wandering outside. The sand hill cranes are flying over by the hundreds, wheeling low enough for us to make out the red markings on their heads. The robins are back at last. And crocuses are up and blooming a full month earlier than last year. […]
Today I am hoping things will be a little quieter on the home front. I am hoping to get caught up with bills and taxes and to spend some time outside where it will be, if the forecast is to be believed, a stunning 70 degrees. And while I’m not overjoyed at losing an hour today, I am looking forward to being able to take a walk after dinner without being hemmed in by darkness.
Terry ’70 reflects on her 1000th blog post and a spring day many, many years ago:
My grand-daughter is two weeks old today, and today I write my 1000th post on this silly blog, begun in the waning days of 2007 with George Bush still in the White House, the country still believing that bubble would never pop and gas still going for under $3 a gallon. […]
I look at this young mother and remember every moment of our own honeymoon-time together in the early months of the waning 1970’s as Winter turned to Spring and she slowly mastered Cobra Pose, pushed at the rug with small starfish hands and raised herself up at last on her little forearms.
I study the picture above and can scarce realize that the capable handles cradling young Callie here are those same hands, seen below, that once grasped my single finger as if life itself depended on it.
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Tags: '03, '70, '80, '89, spring