Micro Entrepreneurism, Simple Living & Art
The sunshine was calling. The thermometer in the kitchen window said it was 82 degrees, and although it tends to exaggerate, this time I was pretty sure it was almost right. It was a day to play hooky.
When I went up North for college, I did it every hint of Spring day there was. At Salve, I’d kidnap Kristin in the flamin’ mud mobile, go get some Ma’s snickerdoodle coffee, and blast Big Sky with the windows down all the way to the beach. We’d run around on the sand for a while, and then just sit in the back of my truck and soak up the warmth of the sunshine while still trying to get something school related accomplished. In Boston, at Northeastern, I’d put my discman (oh the days of no ipods!) in my bag and my headphones in my ears and dance my heart out down the sidewalks to Heart or some such other ridiculousness. And then I’d sit down on some bench somewhere with an iced coffee and stream of conciousness write for hours, filling pages with nonsense about nature and the beautiful weather and strange passerby’s.
Here, in Floyd, I kidnapped my mother and drove to the Blue Ridge Parkway. It seemed like the appropriate way to celebrate. Instead of the beach, we have the mountains. We pulled over at a look after and drank our delicious Red Rooster iced coffees and split a sinfully good homemade whoopie pie, talking about the beauty of the moment, of the day, and of the whole damn year and everything yet to come in the next year, all while sitting on a bale of hay we just so happened to have for the occasion.
Like no other season, Spring, for me, is a time to stop and revel in the beauty of the moment. In Florida, there is no true Spring, and because of that I never quite felt the urge to celebrate. Just as nature never had a chance to stop and reset itself, and enjoy the satisfaction of its natural cycles, neither did I. Thing is, I didn’t actual realize I was missing it until Spring came this year.
Experiencing the seasons again has been good for me. I can honestly say I have enjoyed them, even Winter. Nature’s seasons has reminded me of my own, and it is refreshing to recognize and acknowledge them. Without a true Winter, the beauty of Spring seemed to pass by unnoticed, and the glory of Summer taken for granted.