Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Dancing To The Universe In Fine Petticoats
Miss Maybelle and I were trying to come up with a good metaphor for spring and its crazy abundance. We agreed that it is most like a little girl dressing up in her mother's pearls and giant rhinestone earrings and heels and petticoats, all that jewelry swaying and sparkling, all those skirts swishing and flowing, the ridiculousness of a tiny child tottering on high heels way too big but preening in front of the mirror calling out, "Look at me! I'm beautiful!"
And when the mother comes in the room to see her dressed in all this fine finery, with bright red lipstick and purple eyeshadow and magenta blush to complete the look, the mother at once laughs and cries to see the child because yes, she is ridiculous, but yes, oh yes, she is beautiful, too.
That is spring.
The dogwoods and azaleas and Bradford pears are in full bloom, the wisteria is climbing the trees and even the trees that do not bloom are filled with tiny leaves of the most ethereal green.
The lizards are everywhere. I moved a magazine on the table on the porch this morning, only to see a confused tiny green dinosaur scurry across the table to settle back under it in its new position. I watched one the other day stalking a fly on the screen and then, in turn, being stalked by a wasp, running away from what it knew was not its prey but could, in fact, turn it into prey.
My yorkie is all humpie and goes about his totemic loving on Dolly, the dog closest to him in size as she naps. She doesn't even blink. He rarely even finds the correct end of Dolly, but loves her wherever he can.
My little niece came out yesterday for a visit as she had had strep and needed to stay away from school for one more day. We walked to the post office and I showed her the pine tree with its needles instead of leaves and we picked weeds and fed the goats and we cuddled in my bed and read books. A Kiss For Little Bear. Little Bear's Father Comes Home. Little Bear's Friend. We are enchanted by Little Bear and I couldn't help turning and kissing Riley as she snuggled under the down comforter and sighed with contentment.
Babies and flowers and new leaves and cool air and potatoes in the ground and tomatoes, too.
As Riley was sitting in the kitchen, eating her veggie burger, she said to me, "Aunt Mary, when I grow up I want a house just like this one. With everything just like this."
Ah Riley. You reminded me that I am the luckiest woman in the world.
Well, I didn't really need reminding.
But it was nice to hear from a little girl after spending the morning with me in this wonderful place I get to call home, showing me with her new eyes everything again, all new, all lovely, all ridiculously dressed up for spring and tottering about on high heels as the birds sing a melody we can dance to while the trees dip and sway and rustle their gaudy petticoats in accompaniment, the squirrels scampering at our feet, the lizards rushing from one end of the fence to the other, the universe, for this moment, all in tune and watching us dance to its song.