Out like a lamb.

It's been raining. Raining! Spring began officially last week, and since then we've been outside without our jackets. Last night was our first thunderstorm of the year, and although it was brief, it was a relief nonetheless to have more signs of a new season moving in. I stood with my husband and son in the window of my studio, watching the rain pour and the sky flash. My son tilted his head to the thunder. I guess he doesn't remember those epic thunderstorms from his home state of Texas.

We've been back in Maine for a year now. One year and three days, exactly. Last year at this time there was more than a foot of snow waiting on the ground, with still another snowstorm ahead. There were still dirty snowbanks sitting stubbornly in May because of the above-average volume of snow that fell that crazy winter. The snow is already receding from our yard; the crooked edge moves further and further from the trees every day. Rivers are springing up from under shelves of crusty snow, flooding the sides of streets and pooling in the low parts of people's yards.

My first bit of spring cleaning was yesterday, in my kitchen. I straightened up the corner where we keep the recycling, moved the heavy coats into the closet, and cleared off the table that's been impossibly cluttered for months. There's still more work ahead of me, and a lot of rearranging to do. I look forward to when this apartment is in top shape, and I can fill my kitchen and studio with houseplants. If I can't have a garden, I still want to dip my hands in soil and watch things grow.

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"The spring provides
reminders through your life
when branches scrape your pane
they call you out again."
-matt pond PA