Despite the rogue snow storm that blew through here on Thursday afternoon, there are definite signs that spring has finally arrived and I am choosing to go with them. At the risk of thumbing my nose in the faces of the weather gods, I am getting prepared. Gone is the protective winter coating of fur on my lower limbs, and I am sassily flashing my freshly-shorn gams in a pair of capris. Oh the shelf-stocking boys at Safeway are in for a treat!
Next I put all the shovels away in the garage. That made Eva more than a little nervous, let me tell you, as she figures that the instant the final shovel was hung up on its nail, the snow would start.
I then rolled up the groady, lumpy, twisted runner in the back hall, swept all the spruce needles up and put all the winter boots down in the basement. I even replaced the heavy brown velvet curtains in the dining room with the short sassy white and green IKEA ones. Do I know how to tempt fate or what? Sometimes it's just so thrilling to live life on the edge like this.
Providing we don't wake up to 15 cms of snow tomorrow morning, I plan to start whipping the yard into shape as well. Those ladybug babies have had plenty long enough to leave the nest and enter the cruel world - I am tackling the perennial beds and getting rid of all the old growth. I shall haul a bunch of compost out of the composter and give the garden a good feed of rotted stuff. Shit, there's stuff coming up already and I can almost harvest my first batch of rhubarb.
But the toughest part of getting ready for spring is going to be shedding this winter flab that I've managed to cultivate. It seems no matter how much I exercise or how little I eat, I still manage to put away a little protective flesh for those lean times. I tell you, I would have made an ideal cavewoman. Maybe I should sign up for Survivor. I would outlast those skinny losers any day.