Pretending

Sometimes seasons are illusory, mis-named.  So.  Sitting here in the warm pretending it is summer.

I pretend

It is summer.

If I sit inside

Crank up the heat,

Gaze at the flowers,

Listen to the cardinal

Through the closed window,

I can almost lull myself

Into summer thoughts,

Picture a hammock

A tall iced drink

When the clouds clear

The sun emerges.

I will not need

To water the new plantings.

The morning rain

Has taken care of that.

I pretend

It is really summer.

I note the calendar,

Make summer plans

In the warm house

Listen to birds

Through the closed window.

Furnace

Sometimes unseasonable weather can allow for good things (like fixing the furnace before the temperature drops below freezing).

Two days ago

The furnace died.

Usually

Come June

We would not have noticed

Until fall.

Now it is fixed and ready

For winter.

Though heat is not quite needed,

We let the furnace run,

Fold the blankets,

Find a few moments

To enjoy the warm.

Is it spring yet?

There are more signs of spring around.  Unlike last year, with an unseasonably early spring, this one feels unseasonably late.  I complained last year too, sure that the earliness meant unknown repercussions for the rest of the year.  Today there are a few buds.  The rhubarb has poked its head through the soil.  The clematis has not yet dared to consider vining.  I wonder if the lateness will bring unknown repercussions for the rest of the year.

Today the sky

Is still gray

But more leaf buds

Emerge.

Soon enough

Ok maybe not soon enough

It will be full on

Spring.

This is the way

It always goes

Even when I forget,

Reminders come full force

Every year

Long about this time

Though of course

I would prefer those reminders

Still earlier.