It snowed this morning, and as I walked outside to get the Sunday paper, frozen sleet crystals clung to the trees half leafed out, and sparkled on the windshield of my car. Crunching along, I noticed a bright pink swoosh across the eastern sky, right above the frosted trees in the mountains, and the glaring glacier-like white of the clear cuts.
January, I thought, but the newspaper and the calendar said late April. My half numb toes agreed with me, as I shivered down the lane to find the comics.
Sipping coffee, I looked out on the deck, now covered with falling snow, as the spring birds ate voraciously at the feeder. I’d put out a block of suet and filled the feeder with sunflower seeds last night, in anticipation of everyone’s need for a hearty breakfast this morning, as winter settled in, the second or third time this year.
Later on, the spring cleaning bug hit me, and I worked up a sweat with my frenzy of putting away papers, straightening up my various living room piles, and damp mopping the floors, while snow and hail fought outside for who was going to keep the lawn the whitest.
Opening up my new tube of oil paint, and trying out my new palette, I happily mixed and daubed away with my brush, attacking a fresh canvas with what soon became a cheery beach scene on a summer’s day. Naples Yellow, Raw Umber, Raw Sienna, and French Ultramarine, along with their friends, Titanium White and Indian Red soon danced with my brushes and brought sunshine, waves, and summer cheer to the room.
The oil smelled good, and reminded me of fresh mown grass, and crisp sea air on a summer’s walk to a favorite beach. Never mind the hail pounding on the roof, or the sound of the furnace cranking up to fend off winter’s chlll. It was summer, at last.