Today was a lovely day in coastal Maine. The sky was clear and the wind was blowing, hard, (which I happen to love.) As I stood in the sun, out in front of the hardware store, I took a minute to search the sky for kites — this would have been a great day to fly a kite.
Somewhat surprisingly, most of the people I saw going in to the store were bundled up in winter coats. I am always a little confused by the fact that I didn’t feel cold, at all. Now, when I came inside, I had to change into winter clothes, including my sister, S.’s hand-knitted socks. And my heat was set at 69 — I suppose my reaction could be psychosomatic, but I genuinely felt colder, as I always do when I walk through the door.
The growing daffodil, tulip, and other bulbs, which burst out of the ground so quickly during our warm spell last week, stand naked in the flower beds, and I can almost see them shivering. The warm brown garden soil of those few temperate days looks to have solidified back into the cold, hard ground of Maine winter. The man in my building who maintains our gardens so beautifully, went out on the pleasant days and cleaned garden beds which, now bare of the dead stalks and leaves from the striking late-summer dahlias, and daisy patches, wait for another warm day to look alive once more.
Today was a happy day.