I banned all snow related things from the house today. The snow globe with the Sophie dog gazing at a cardinal, the snow men from the bathroom shelf, the deep green glittered evergreen trees…all went into the box marked “After Christmas”. I keep these things to put out in the bleak and barren days fowling the holidays when the house seem colorless and drab.

I couldn’t take it any more. The sun is shining. I want it to be warm. I’ve cleaned the green house and planted the earliest seeds in their respective flats. Now, I wait for them to sprout. But….there is still snow. True Spring is months away.

What do you do in the meantime? The house is still drab and smells of dog. Ostera with it’s bunnies and eggs and flowers is two months away. The bright green moss covered topiaries look garish and out of place when there is still snow and gray and mud on the days that it thaws.

I need an in-between brightness. Something that will transition me from the desire to hibernate and the need to get in the garden. I need something between snowmen and daffodils. I need fresh air moving through the house…but the windows stay closed against the cold and I smell dog….and turtle.

When I was sculpting, I would do a show in South Carolina during the first week in March. Afterwards, I’d sneak down to Folly Beach, just outside of Charleston. That’s my favorite place in the world. A five mile strip of beach, uncluttered with tourists, with only seagulls and pelicans for company on my walks. It’s never really warm in March, but there isn’t any snow and it smells like ocean and wind. Not like dog.

When I would come home at the end of the week, the rest of the winter seemed bearable. I’d had my walks on the beach and seen the sun, I knew it would only be weeks before the forsythia bloomed and the grass started to green. Then it would be baby season and the house would smell like squirrel pee and formula and pine shavings. I wouldn’t notice that the house was messy or drab and the wind would blow away the smell of dog.

I don’t go there any more. I miss it. I don’t really mind being home. I’m just tired of snow and turtle poop and dog. It’s supposed to snow this week and it will cover what bare ground we have, but it will also cover the mud and the mounds of dog poop in the back yard that look like someone had a battle with a catapult and poo.

Maybe this weekend I’ll set the taps in the maple trees and then, at least on the back deck, it will smell of sweet syrup. If it warms up enough some bees may show up, hoping for a few drops of sweetness. I’ll give it to them and watch them lick the spoon.

Maybe I’ll paint the kitchen, lord knows, it can use it. I could always finish that curtain that still isn’t hemmed. If I’m ambitious, I’ll clean the fridge and pantry and give this turtle a good scrub. Maybe…. maybe, I’ll wash the dog.

Or the dog and I can curl up on the couch and watch an old movie. She doesn’t smell that bad…..

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