February was too much. TOO MUCH. But March is my month. And if I were to say this to you in real-life I would replace the little "my" with a "MY" and maybe swing my hips a little. Here, in no particular order are the annual events that I claim:
- Daffodils (my favourites)
- Longer Days
- Getting the peas in and moving dirt around
- Spring Break and maybe a little trip
- Swap out sneaking out to the fabric store with sneaking out to my favourite nursery
- Tax season (I know that this gives most people a stomach ache, but I like seeing everything on paper-- no matter how depressing.)
- People are happier. Especially the sort of people who are my children.
- Hope. I feel so much hope in March.
Paul has moved from working a graveyard shift over to a fancy admin day job. He is well liked where he works and I could not be prouder of him. He wears a lot of sweater vests and nice ties. I have been sewing quite a lot, trying to work through some of my accumulated fabric and patterns. I'm trying to look honestly at the clothes I've made and how they look on me and what I actually wear regularly-- it appears there will be some more knit tops in my future.
I spent a night and a day in Astoria this last weekend, sewing with a handful of really wonderful women. It was beautiful. And even though I spent two hours unpicking two button holes (they were in french terry and I didn't want anything to snag), the time was super productive. I really love being productive. I have come to accept that getting ahead with things at home is more accurately, barely maintaining or better: dismissing all expectations entirely and moving forward anyway. Maybe that is why I claim March so fiercely-- the light, the flowers, the seeds-- they all grow and move with very little effort on my part.
Of course, lest I get all crazy and optimistic, the laundry does the same thing.