Sunday, March 2, 2008
Spring is in the O2
Despite the fact that my past two weeks have been rather unpleasant, having picked up some scourge in Puerto Rico that wages daily sorties on my poor, exhausted digestive system (which explains a barren Spice and Life in February; who can be enthusiastic in the kitchen when food suddenly becomes the enemy?), it's not escaped my otherwise intestinally-focused attention, that spring is in the air. Yes, the sun has been peeking out earlier in the morning, and hanging around later in the afternoon, and, much to the delight of my two tympanic membranes, I've been hearing the sound of our resident songbirds belting out their sing-songy ballads once again. The farm where I shop for produce is filled with buckets of tulips, and daffodils, and pussy willows, and cherry blossoms; a vision of hope in a month known for being somewhat cranky, to say the least. Yesterday, I stopped by JCrew at the mall, and I thought my head might pop off with delight; madras bags, great summery tee shirts, sweet little skirts, and everywhere my eyes fell, splashes of bright, happy colors. I glanced at myself in the mirror, dressed in black and grey, wool and boots, and wanted to strip out of my winter clothes right there in the middle of the store, and walk out wearing sunflower yellow, and grass green, then head to the nearest nail salon to get my toenails painted the color of fresh-cut lilacs. Instead, since there is still snow on the ground, and most likely (as this is New York after all) more to come before spring officially arrives in 19 days, I headed to the farm to pick up an armload of flowers, my logic being of course, that if I can't look like spring until the 21st, then at least everywhere I turn, I will be reminded that it's just a few short weeks away.