On the fringes

We're on the fringe of seasons here.

Our Vernal Equinox is around the corner,

and there's not a person in NW Montana that doesn't feel the itch of spring.

 Days here get caught between sunbeams,

the deafening gray of the dead winter season

and bitter blasts of cold winds.

Some from the Western coast.

Some from the Eastern plains. 

Overall, it's kinda *shit* for weather. 

The sun taunts us all.
Not in a *bully on the playground* way,
but something friendlier,
like a good tease from a dear friend.
Like chasing childhood crushes on the playground instead. 

This cycle, 

for me here in the most northern part of this state,

and certainly that of the lower 48,
(although I am sure the east coast this particular winter may beg to differ!)

is so stark and deliberate in comparison to other parts of the country.

I've lived in a lot of places before MT,

and I can't ever remember being so damn itchy for springtime.

I can't remember wanting my winter to fade faster.
I can't remember slowing down,
nearly stopping at a dead halt,
 for a good dose of vitamin D.

Winter to Spring to Summer to Fall,

it's the cycle of things.
No surprises here.
Like clockwork, I get itchy.
Every trip indoors seems stifling.
The only cure for this dis-ease
is sunshine and afternoon breeze on my all-too porcelain face.
I crave that heat. I NEED it.

And the swing of things,
winter to spring here,
 is usually

slow.

sleepy.

agonizing.

painful even.  

But patience always proves this to be 

an exciting endeavor....

A riotous change from ice

to something softer,

like the ground squishing underneath my boots,

paw prints and hoof and boot tracks

on what's left of our snow,

and into this fresh mud underneath.

At night, I dream about green things.
I dream about the garden that will be.
I dream of hot tea thawing cold noses
that soothe my itch for digging in the barely bare dirt.
Frozen solid, that dirt.
And I know.....
 This winter's not over yet.
But it feels good to pretend.
So I slip on another sweater and hope I won't need it later.

During the day, I can't help but feel sorry for the fluffy deer
who are inky-eyed from a colder-than-usual January...
scrambling from the creek behind our house
into a white background of bright light.
How blinding that must be.
How desperate they are to find something fresh.
Hungry and so very wild.
Bushy-tailed and alert.
Almost pissed that there's STILL nothing to eat
but detritus under the white blanket of February.
After four months of gray and no grass,
I swear I can hear their bellies growl,
And I watch one from our front porch
stand on her back two legs
as she reaches for our apple tree's last standing
gray and dry leaf.

I slither on the icy footpath back to my studio,
after the deer finds I am watching her,
and she high-tails it out of my sight.
I feel like cursing old man winter when I loose balance and catch myself,
plunging my hands into the snowbanks surrounding.
Dammit!

I crawl off the ice and back into the bungalito.
I nurse my pinky hand back into flesh-mode,
and thank goodness for indoor heat.
Sanctuary.

It seems we are all ready for even the flutter of spring shoots to nibble.
We are all a little inky-eyed this time of year.
Hungry for more.
Ready for change.

To the softer seasons, my friends.

We ARE on the fringes!

............

Fringe earrings pictured here will be included in a mini Shop update Tonight!
Rose quartz, Arizona Turquoise, Montana Agate and Lapis Lazuli.
...