Sunshine in a Bowl

I am in search of sunshine in a bowl, the tangy tart taste of a fresh squeezed lemon dripping over the warm green softness of an avocado. A dash of sea salt and, if I close my eyes, I can imagine a field of daisies blowing in the soft blue sky of a spring day.

I have a not-so-secret secret. I am a romantic. It is easy for me to romanticize the wiles of the internet over the vague hazy remembrance of the life I lived before the internet exploded with bright colour and informed me that March was about tulips and cherry blossoms, green grass and pretty green skirts. Funny, I used to think that was May.

I absolutely love having a plethora of information at my fingertips, a bright array of images to breathe in along with the vastness of opinion to inspire the brain wave synapses of my mind. I love that I can click on a music video and be transported backwards to smoke-filled bars of too much gin lemon squeeze and a second later be reminded of the hot gritty sand of a lake breeze beach and an olive green Tupperware container of liquid sunshine lemonade made too sugary by hands that rubbed Noxzema on red-bare shoulders.

Though, if I am completely honest with myself, sometimes it feels like too much and there is a tiny shadow on my left shoulder that wonders if I really want that pretty spring green skirt because I really love it or because I admire the lovely girl who wears it. Some days, it is a bit too easy to be seduced by a sparse and pretty entryway that isn’t marred by the reality of mucky boots; the snowshoes that don’t quite straddle the space; or the bin full of mittens unraveled on top of frayed scarves.

I took a moment this afternoon to peruse flickr and found myself suddenly entranced with images of pretty spring flowers, tulips and a vast array of blooming blossoms. I could almost smell the fresh scent of spring as images of lush green sprang out at me. My reality check came quick and fierce as I glanced outside at the landscape of brown trees emerging from white snow and ice covering the wet brown grass of decaying leaves. I felt my heart sink knowing that the air would smell dry and dusty and, if I squinted just right, I would see my breath in the crisp air.

By the time my double flowering plum tree reveals pink blossoms, most of North America will have moved on to kids running through sprinklers and plump juicy strawberries.

In the before time, otherwise known as the time before the internet, I would feel as though I had been gifted with an early spring. So I take a deep breath and ground myself in my reality. This February was unseasonably warm in the Canadian Prairies and March is continuing that trend with the snow already starting to recede from the sidewalks.

I am well aware that depending on where you are situated, my spring is likely your winter nightmare. My backyard is covered in many feet of snow and if you came to visit, you might be bundled up in thick layers of winter wear while I am seriously contemplating pulling my bicycle out of the garage because thanks to the unseasonably warm weather, the trails are mostly clear of snow and ice.

I am grateful for the constant presence of blue sky, for the way the brown peeks out more and more everyday as the snow continues to melt. This morning I forgot my gloves and I never even noticed until I pulled out my lunch bag. Tonight, I will watch the sun dip as the trees gleam gold and I will smell the dry scent of musty earth melt. I will feel spring’s presence in the swish of a brown skirt embroidered with gold thread and topped with a soft white sweater. Did I mention that I am a bit of a romantic?

The sun shines brightly and beams at me with dancing winks. She is a smiling promise who mischievously hides in fruit bowls even as she winds a trail through tree branches and river melts.

Photo Credits

“Sunshine in a Bowl” © Darlene J Kreutzer

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