My First Crocus

Spring Wildness

There’s something miraculous about spring. It’s inevitable, the return of life after a long winter, and yet when it happens, it’s always wondrous.

A tiny creamy yellow crocus is blooming on the east side of the house, my first flower. Daffodil spears are up and starting to form buds, and I found some red peony tips just emerging. Snowdrops will be blooming soon, too.

There’s a time in the early spring garden where everything is tousled and messy from fall leaves and stems I haven’t cut back yet, with green poking through, determined to grow in spite of the cold.

I’m always in a rush to start the cleanup, as an excuse to be outside, but then it looks too tidy, with the lawn raked and the beds cleaned, waiting for the rampant growth of May and June to make it look wild again. It suddenly seems tame, and I miss that early spring wildness.

Maureen

Favorite Session Yet

I just had my favorite school session ever. I’ve had really fun sessions with kids, but this was special. First of all, it was over two hours with the same kids, which is a luxury. The kids were selected because their teachers thought they had an interest in writing, and by the responses of the kids, I’d say they chose well. And there were 26, a small enough group that everyone who wanted to could speak up.

Junior high was when I decided I’d never be a teacher, because the kids were so awful, but today I understand why some teachers like teaching those ages – the kids were awesome. Well, it was a middle school – grades 5 to 8. Fun, great energy.

We came up with ideas for wild What If stories, created monsters and gave them voices. We talked about what books they like best and why, and I collected their favorite titles (I’m making lists).

I was asked those all-important questions: what do you like best (those writing days when I just write and write and write), what I like the least (the days writing doesn’t happen, and admin work), and what education you need to become a writer (no magic piece of paper – the quality of the writing is the measure.)

Now I’m too jazzed up to write, which is a good thing, as the drywall guy is coming to patch holes.

Maureen