Spring has come unseasonably early here in Oregon, and I can sense things stirring in my backyard already, pushing and slicing their way to the surface. They don’t want to wait until a more reasonable time–they want life right now. Vines are slithering out of the ground, soft and green. The sprouts in the veggie patch are starting to spread their tentacles. Buds are bursting open on tree branches, and the tiny finches, which have been waiting for this all through winter, are tearing them to pieces with their hard beaks.

I want to shut my door and keep Mother Nature out. I distrust Her on good days, and fear Her on worse days. She is out to get me. I will put on music to block out all that happy growing noise, and savor the little bits of my world which I can control. Cut roses in a vase. Nuggets of meat on a plate. My pet dog. I can close the blinds and burrow deep into my bed. Let the messiness of the spring happen without me. In the comfort of my home, I can pretend that I don’t live in a wild universe.

Still, I can feel them from here, moving in the brown soil. If I don’t ever go out there, I will wake up one fine morning in a house covered with weeds.

When is the fall coming back again?

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