Daffodil watch 2013 is on, and we’re seeing some progress.
To me, this is a MUCH better harbinger of Spring then some sharp toothed ol’ rat seeing his shadow.
Behold!
I can hardly wait for that explosion of deep buttery yellow! Hooray!
Image Copyright 2013, Karen Fayeth, and subject to the Creative Commons license in the far right column of this page. Taken with an iPhone5, the Camera+ app and very sleepy eyes.
There is a disparity, it seems, among the people of the world. We can be divvied up and sliced and diced into neat categories every which way to Sunday.
One of those particular designations is on my mind lately.
This new job of mine brings many challenges, not the least of which is a long commute. An hour on the train means I must rise in the small hours of the morning in order to make it to work on time.
Hours so small I never even knew they existed.
Some people are morning people. They thrive on the early hours and always say chipper things like, “I get so much done in the early morning hours!”
According to Wikipedia, we call those sorts of people larks.
Effin larks.
I do not get things done in the early morning hours. Early morning hours for me consist of some grunting, some grumbling and a lot of shuffling.
You know how when they turn on stadium lights, they don’t come on right away. From switch flip to on to full light power takes quite a bit of time. (this recent power debacle at the Super Bowl, by way of example.)
That is me. I’m a stadium light standard. In the early hours the light switch might go to on, but it will take until about 10:00 and then *flink!* the lights finally pop on and everything in my brain starts churning.
Before that it’s a slow plod with lots of flickering.
The other morning I was chatting with a lady I work with. She veritably chirruped when telling me how much of a morning person she is. She asked me what time I get up. Through clenched teeth, as though I could hardly say the words, I told her 5:30am.
“Oh, really? At 5:30 this morning I was already at the gym having a great workout!”
“Good for you,” was my reply, still through clenched teeth.
I am just not a larky morning person and I’m not ever going to be. I’m a night person. I like the nighttime. It feels good.
Night creeps in on soft furry little paws, slowly dimming the lights and making everything more sultry and lush. Night rolls in like a blues ballad from John Lee Hooker or BB King. Powerful and meaningful perfect three bar rhythm as the backdrop, while everything slows down a little and everyone takes their time. Evening is red wine and deep conversation and big plates of seafood pasta that fill both the belly and the soul.
Morning is a whole other thing. Morning clangs in with bells and horns like a one man marching band and turns the lights on hi-beam and shines those lights right into my eyes. The spotlight lands on the To Do list where every single action item dances an over caffeinated jig like a Chihuahua mainlining albuterol.
Morning clangs to the rhythm of euro techno music as the backdrop until I hold my hands over my ears and beg for it to stop, please stop, I’m asking you so nicely to stop.
I don’t care how many mornings my alarm clock forces me out of bed while it is still dark outside, I’m just never going to be a morning person. I don’t even want to be.
Let the larks get their worms in the morning. This owl will hunt something up real nice tonight.
Image Copyright National Geographic photo galleries. All rights reserved.
Here we are already in the second month of this crazy New Year. I’m not sure I’m even over my New Year’s Eve hangover and here it already is February.
So to honor the shortest month of the year, I’m going to borrow from a couple of my own previous February posts.
First of all, my cross-cultural thoughts on Groundhog Day. Seems not all the world has an annual rodent pulling day:
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From the post titled “You Do What, Now?” originally posted February 7, 2011.
My boss has a sense of humor about to the level of mine, so lately we have this ongoing riff.
It goes something like this:
Boss: “So, what is this, um, let’s see what do they call it…yes, this day of groundhog you people celebrate in the US?”
Me: “What, they don’t have this holiday in the UK?”
Boss: “I don’t think so, what is this all about?”
Me: “So, wait, you’re telling me that in the UK they don’t pull rodents out of the ground in order to determine the extent of winter?”
Boss: “Not as such, no.”
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Really, how do you explain Groundhog Day to someone who doesn’t understand?
Hell, I don’t even understand, but my personal confusion not withstanding…
When the poor burrowing rat, Punxsutawney Phil, had bright lights shined directly in his sleepy eyes yesterday, he did not see his shadow.
I guess that means we are game on for an early Spring.
I’m totally ready.
I love this time of year. Spring makes me so utterly happy. It’s all full of fun and color and happy expectations.
Here’s some thoughts on February:
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From the post titled “An Ode To The Shortest Month” originally published January 18, 2011.
The second month of the year. The shortest month of the year.
February is a beautiful month.
In February, winter is not quite over, but spring is not quite here. In February we start to see the brilliant yellow of blooming daffodils against the monochrome hue of stormy skies. Daffodils are the harbinger of warm sunny days to come. They give the cold body hope.
I believe the daffodils and tulips and the snowfall of Cherry Blossoms in February are meant to keep us going like the carrot at the end of the stick. The “something wonderful just around the bend” that helps the human soul stay willing to endure the cold and damp days that are yet to be endured.
In February, Punxsutawney Phil, pokes his burrowing animal’s head out of the ground and lets us know the score. The planning can begin.
The ground begins to thaw. Birds start to think about coming back this way. There is hope.
Heck, February is also the birth month of at least three of my favorite people (wait, four! Just thought of another).
I’m looking toward the second month of the year with a not-so-secret anticipation.
So I will get all poetic and speak of daffodils and warm days.
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Speaking of daffodils, I optimistically purchased three bunches today. Their buds are closed up tight and I am not sure they will find a way to break free. Only time will tell.
For today they tell me, “not yet…but soon”.
Sort of the same message that February has for me.
I feel, dare I say it, optimistic.
Hope springs a daffodil.
Photo Copyright 2013, Karen Fayeth, and subject to the Creative Commons license in the right column of this page. Taken with an iPhone5 and the Camera+ app.