Sunday, March 17, 2013

Spring cometh.  Woohoo!  It's that time of year again!  Time for my naturally tan best friends to begin impressing the world with their nut-brown-ness.  Time for my skin's paleness to shock the world.  Time for them to go on hikes and to airshows.  Time for us to close all windows and batten down the hatches, for Nathan's allergy season has begun.  Long story short, we're a bunch of pale, puny pathetics.  Yes, I talked to my dear friend, Paula Miller last night (and this sad litany is all her fault ;o)!  See below!  This pic is five years old, and yes, she still looks amazing.  And we hate her ;o)  That's why I had my dog kill her chicken.  Ha, so there!

Actually, I love, love the spring.  I have grieved for years that poor Nathan can't enjoy the beauty that's out there with me, so God gave me Kathryn.  She oohs and aahs with the best of them and would hike all day in the woods if I let her.  And just so I don't forget that they have another parent, God gave me Alex.  Who is a great indoorsman like his fatherAlex has suffering through the requisite hikes and gardens down to a fine art.  (Nathan has learned to suffer in silence- his mother probably beat that out of him :o)  Alex sweats, gets bitten by bugs, and (I think) trips himself on purpose for a good skinned knee or two.  All the pollen in the air means happy bees, beautiful butterflies, extra showers, forbidden spaces (pollen-filled hair on pillows makes for long nights), wiping down the dog, Claritin D, questions at the pharmacy regarding my methamphetamine factory (really?!), daffodils!!!   An illustration of how Alex feels (2010), but no longer how he acts (Thank you, Lord!)...

And now Kathryn...

And me... that would be the poem.  The reason I am wandering lonely as a cloud would be because Nathan is sneezing somewhere in a darkened room, and I haven't washed the pollen out of my hair yet, so the room is locked. 


I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

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