On Spring


Spring is the season of new beginnings. Or some such thing. I’m always filled with a sense of hope upon emerging from my winter hibernation. There is (slightly) warmer weather, fresh smells unsmelled and the sounds of birds unheard for several months, and a general lifting of moods all around. There are baby animals and soft green shoots of growth pushing through and replacing the decay of the previous year. Spring always brings a general sense of wholeness. I’m especially excited this year. Having just moved into a new house last summer, my husband and I have yet to discover the springtime blooming flowers in the various and sundry landscaping left by the previous owners. It’s always a fun surprise of new houses. In our case, having only seen the overgrown masses of weeds and unkempt summer growth that accumulated during the transfer of ownership, we are excited to be here for the start of the season and maybe glimpse what everything was supposed to look like. There are some beautiful gardens here, or were, presumably.

So, as soon as the air starts to smell like spring, I get excited. Smells like dirt and rain and new things. Shortly thereafter, however, as happens every spring, the feeling of hope and new beginnings cracks under the sheer burden of new tasks and to-do lists. The relief of winter’s end that buoys my mood is soon replaced by stress and anxiety of all the things I’ve realized I now have to do in addition to the rest of my daily tasks. I’m not kidding when I say I hibernate during the winter. Besides snow removal, travel to work, and the occasional jaunt outside for a winter activity like skiing, my activity halves and I rarely make it outside. To some extent, I blame my natural feeling of perpetual cold. My mind and body essentially shut down, doing the absolute bare minimum whether its chores, or cooking, or even my hobbies. Again, having just moved into a new house, it was especially easy this winter to eschew vacuuming in favor of curling up under a blanket in front of the fire. Which made the transition into outdoor work this spring all the more shocking to my system. It’s good to have a kick in the pants every now and then, but it can be equally demoralizing in some senses, realizing how much there is to do, and how little you’ve done to set yourself up for success.

I’ve also had the unfortune of developing some late onset allergies. I think? Which, yeah, is apparently a thing. I had to look this up. I had previously thought I’d won the genetic lottery when it came to allergens. We don’t have any food or pet allergies in our family, nor allergies to medications that I know of. Not even seasonal allergies for pollen or other plants. Just the occasional sneezing fit from dusting or black pepper. Well that’s all changed. I had begun to feel congested and sneezy, with a scratchy throat a week or so ago. We finally lost all of our snow here and have begun to see green. I didn’t think anything of it, because it isn’t unusual to get a little sniffly upon the change of the seasons. But when the sneezing persisted and my eyes began to itch, I began to wonder if I had some kind of rare disease developed from my extreme ice cream consumption. Like, does diabetes manifest itself with teary eyes and nasal congestion? Nope. I’ve just been lucky enough up to this point to have never had to give the changing of the seasons or the pollen count a second thought. So good news, not some abnormal manifestation of my sweet tooth. Bad news, probably have to deal with this crap forever now. If I had to guess. I’m new to allergies.

Yours,
Quietly Sneezing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close