"Snow. It's the new Spring." -- Walter Betz, yesterday at Mountain Market.
It is 32 degrees, snowing sideways and the north wind is blowing 20 mph. "Real feel 17" is what the weather icon on the community web page says. Today is the drop off for the annual spring hospice rummage and bake sale at the ANB Hall. The annual spring student art show is going up on the walls of the school today. Tonight is the annual Spring Fling barbecue and dance at the fairgrounds, featuring Julia and the Perpetual Beer Run band. Tomorrow kicks off the annual spring community clean-up (and the weekend of rummage sale bargains).
I have been inspired to spring clean my office this week by beautiful photos in the New York Times of one writer's lovely writing space. It was so tidy and pretty. Mine, on the other hand, looks like some kind of re-cycle center for white paper and old coffee cups. I print out every draft. Just in case. And I save them all. Just in case.
Lynn Canal Community Players weekend drama, Dinner With Friends, was just great. I had dreaded it because of the publicity, which emphasized the serious tone of infidelity, divorce, and friends taking sides. It wasn't suitable for anyone under 18 either. And there was an almost four minute nasty marital bedroom fight. I mean really, in April, when it's still so cold, and just when you think it is spring it snows again? But the show was so well written (those Pulitzer Prize judges know their drama) and so well acted and directed that I was pulled in right from the start.
"When a wave of love takes over a human being, love of another human being,love of nature, love of all mankind, love of the universe, such an exultation takes him that he knows he has put his finger on the pulse of the great secret and the great answer." --- Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings in Cross Creek
This morning as we were walking a whole pack of dogs on the beach (there were three humans and five canines) we marveled at how this time yesterday it was snowing but by the evening it was clear and calm and the inlet was full of birds and smelled like May. John said the good thing about this year's bipolar weather is that we get to greet spring so many times, rather than just once.
It's snowing. I know, 'nuff said. There's music in the stacks from noon-1 at the library featuring Dr. Feldman on his concertina. Tomorrow at noon it' s that wayfaring mariner Scott Pearce & Friends band "Howl's Pals" and Friday it's Liz Marantz Falvey on violin and perhaps a guest cello player. Also at 4:00 this afternoon at the library there will be a demonstration of the new ereader for libraries (you borrow electronic books on them). Thursday evening at 5:30 it's dinner and cool films about women, Lunafest, at Harriett Hall.
Here's a little spring verse, set to motions and music for the young and the young at heart. Words by Emily Dickinson tune by Nancy Nash-- (But you can make up or borrow your own if you don't know ours):
New feet withing my garden go (marching)
New fingers stir the sod (kneading fingers)
A troubadour upon the elm betrays the solitude (hands to mouth, calling)
New children play upon the green ( hands gently patting little heads)
Am I the only one who couldn't sleep last night after all those horrific images from Boston? I won't look anymore. The radio is enough. How could anyone be so evil? All I kept thinking about was when my husband ran the 100th anniversary Boston Marathon. His parents, Grandma Joanne and Phil, waited at the finish line with our oldest daughter, Eliza, then in eight grade. Imagine. I can't. I qualifed for Boston six times, but never managed to run it, since training in Alaska for an April marathon is hard.