After an extended hiatus from the blogosphere, I return with a poetic line from the one and only Gerard Manley Hopkins. Growing up with extended, merciless, and bleakly dark winters, I adore spring. For me spring means air-dried hair, sundresses, lighter and brighter colors, increased ideation, laughter, bare naked toes, and ample fresh produce from the farmer’s market. Mostly I am rejuvenated in springtime, ready jump into whatever’s next. I like to think I am very resolved like Fiona Apple in that one song about being a better version of herself. Maybe not quite that feisty, but a girl can dream, right?
And why haven’t I blogged in forever? Lots of reasons. Goodbyes. Finals. Refinishing and distressing furniture. General lack of ambition. A [reclaimed] addiction to Pinterest and DIYing. Spring break. Interaction and conversation with those in my life who matter more than this blog. Transitions in dreams, visions, and purposes. Thoughts, ideas, and stories-some inconsequential but all significant-not intended to be revealed to the general public. You know, things hard, good, and true.
In the opening of this post, I quoted Hopkins, because inside me are dearest, freshest, deep down things. I feel like I am sitting on the edge of a great valley teeming in the uncertainty of possibility. And, ultimately, that kind of experience cannot be conveyed completely through diction. Occupying that awkward yet soulful place between my head and my heart, I wait eagerly, sort of like that moment right before you catch your breath. Also, I’m surrounded by surprise daisies and crocuses that seem to be smiling at me, which is a great inspiration for the internal writer I’ve neglected.
And it’s spring, so all is right in the world. And if it isn’t for real, it will be, because that’s what this time of year is about.