So after pulling 10% of the weeds I wanted to eradicate today, and having a good percentage of those leave their roots behind in the soil to torment me yet another day, I came in and started drinking.
Up in the Midwest, the lilacs are blooming. In March. These are the bodacious blooms that we waited all the year long to enjoy, coming as they did - the heralds of summer -in May. Lilacs in March make me freeze deep inside. They present a powerful sense of wrong to my inner mind.
March in my memories. Crisp late winter days, when the sun warms the soil and it expands and heaves in response, the upper warmer layers parting from the colder strata below. A perfect time to kickstart spring by going out in a polar fleece vest against the lingering chill, a perfect time to grab and pull those pesky long rooted pests - the dandelion and it's kin. A time to clean the beds, refresh my thoughts on the garden, make plans for the warm days ahead.
Lilacs in March. The whole order of things is perturbed.
I look forward to the coming summer with a sense of inevitably. This dread.
And take another drink.