Monday mishmash and rabbit trails

While I was tossing about possible blog posts this afternoon, my mind went into mental free fall, wandering every which way.  (Note to self: a good day to remember that not all who wander are lost.)  My brain’s a mishmash of “stuff” today–lists for Megan going to school at the end of the month, lists for vacation (almost here), lists of food to buy for a week of being in the mountains with town a long, difficult drive away, trying to remember everything I don’t want to forget long enough to write it down.  Wishing I could just transport ala Star Trek from Cleveland to Naperville to Wyoming with everything I needed; then relax and do only things I want to do.  Every time I sit down to take a break, before my seat touches the chair, I think of seven more things I need to do, hop up again and collect something, start another list, or add to a current one.

My brain on super-nova overload!

Spring forward

There’s a dusting of snow, enough to remind me that it’s winter but not enough to shovel or need salt.  But the sun pours in the window and when I go out to get the mail and the cold wind hit me, I noticed green has pushed an inch or so out of the ground in a number of places.  Getting ready.  Thinking of March, when a sane person’s mind turns to spring, then April, when spring will actually arrive.

I try to think of another word for “pours”, a word used so often in conjunction with “sun”.  The online thesaurus offers me: cascade, cataract, course, crowd, decant, deluge, discharge, drain, drench, emit, flood, flow, give off, gush, inundate, issue, jet, let flow, proceed, rain, rill, roll, run, rush, sheet, shower, sluice, spew, spill, splash, spout, spring, stream, surge, swarm, teem, throng.

Like Goldilocks, some are too small in meaning (drain, flow, issue, shower) and some too big (deluge, drench, gush, inundate), but some might be just right:  cascade, flood.  Either would work as well.  But no matter the word, I’m thankful for the large windows letting the sunshine pour, cascade and flood into the room, lightening not only the room but my mood, turning my thoughts to spring, to greenness and renewal.

Most days I like winter.  I usually like snow more than rain because it doesn’t soak you as quickly and it looks beautiful, at least until the cars spew dirt along the roads.  I like skiing, both downhill and cross country and the contrast of cold outdoors and warmth indoors.  I like a fire in the wood-burning stove and feel (slightly) self-sufficient, knowing that if the electricity goes off, we can at least sit in front of the stove, covered by sleeping bags, and be warm.

But the thing I like most about winter is its contrast to summer and the often gentle leading of spring from the cold and beautiful bareness of winter to the warmth and life of green summer, followed by the gradual closing down of fall and the last beauty of the leaves.  Without winter, those things don’t seem as special, aren’t as filled with joy and, in fall, maybe a bit of sadness; of contrast between life and death, even though in that winter death, there’s a multitude of life.

So I revel in the sunshine cascading through the window and the warmth that in too short a time will change to cold night.  And I look forward to spring.

Lie, lay or luxuriate?

It’s mid-January and I luxuriate on a lounge chair in the warm Arizona sun under a mostly cloudless sky. At home, there’s snow on the ground and single digits on the thermometer, a fact that increases my enjoyment and appreciation of the warmth of the sun.

I love words! The meanings of synonyms may be similar, yet the nuances make the choice of word important. Do I lie in the sun (a bit boring), relax in the sun (refreshing), nap in the sun (even more refreshing and lazy), luxuriate (more of a treat) or bask in the sun (maybe a hint of self-satisfaction in the enjoyment)? And just to be clear, as well as grammatically correct, I do not “lay” in the sun (at least not in the present tense), even though I may lay down in the sun.

Today I luxuriate. I want to read but the winter sun, off to the side, is too bright to read for long. Compounding the problem, I need my reading glasses but then the sun’s too bright and my dark glasses aren’t prescription.

So I read a bit, then close my eyes, lie back and bask, lying in the sun, luxuriating in the opportunity to relax. No nap. But when it’s finally time to go in, I stretch cat-like, before leaving the warm lounge chair in the Arizona sun.