Saturday, April 05, 2014

Spring light

We had a birthday party for Ian a few weeks back and I was forced to clean the house, well, at least the first floor of the house. This was one day later when it was still clean. Alas, it doesn't look like this right now. If only they could make some sort of preservative that makes your cleaning jobs last longer.

Since that bold night, when I invited half the town over and never considered where they would park, we've been riding out the rest of a particularly grueling winter. I knew we had turned a bend when we got invited to a sugar house to watch some farmer friends do their first boil of the season. I think I heard the world sigh when that sweet steam hit the sky.

Then I know I heard the girls sigh when they took their first sip of sap tea, tea made with boiling hot, sweet maple tree sap, instead of hot water. I've been telling them about it for years and they finally, at age 12 and 8, got to try it.

Other signs of spring are the sound and sight of the farmer whizzing by on his tractor pulling huge vats filled with sap to the sugar house. There was a panic there for a moment, when the sap wasn't running and it was already April.

And I heard the distant sound of honking Canada geese on a walk the other morning. I looked up and there, way high in the steel grey sky was a large formation of migratory birds headed north. North. Of all places.

Maybe my father can finally take his long johns off.

Speaking of my dad, I wrote about him and posted it to the BabyCenter Blog this morning. Read it if you feel so inclined. It's a lot more illuminating into my reality than this post has been.


Kathleen Trail said...

One of my fondest memories is going to a sugar house on a middle school trip to Montreal (not sure who in their right mind wanted to chaperone a bunch of Texan preteens in Canada?)... It was magical. Thanks for taking me back there with those beautiful photos!

Betsy said...

You are welcome, Kathleen. Thank you for being such a loyal reader despite how infrequent and erratic my "posting schedule" is.

Anonymous said...

I'm from Alabama. Never been to a sugar house but would love to go! Never even heard of a "sugar house". I know what kudzoo is though and a katydid. It is amazing how we can live in the same country but have such different experiences (I now live in Spain).

I'm with you on the cleaning. Sometimes I wish I could close my eyes, twitch my nose and then everything would be sparkly clean forever and ever!! I so often feel that cleaning is such a waste of time. It is a waste of time, but I fear cochroches and ants!!!

Your post about your father, I read it 2 days ago and cried so I didn't write a response. My mom was senile. A slow process. She died 8 years after it began. Those were very long and tedious years yet I wish she was still here, even being senile, because at least I could hold her hand, look at her, hug her and tell her how much I loved her. I should have told her a lot more even though she couldn't understand me and that is what I would do if I had it to do over again. Kim from BCN

Betsy said...

Thanks for commenting Kim from BCN. I tried to respond once, but it didn't take. I'm sorry you have regrets. I think that Edith Piaf was lying when she said she had no regrets. To regret is to be human.

Anonymous said...

Betsy, I miss your posts.

I'm 48. Lots a baggage. I went to see a psychologist this summer. Unbiased ears.

After about 8 hours of my talking, 8x7 is 48 (so 7 years per hour), well, I felt purged.

Acceptance. Future. Past sort of put in the garbage.

Seeing this woman psychologist did a lot for me. We talked out my regrets and I realized that I did in fact do a lot for my mom but I could not keep my mom alive even if I had tried 10x which is what weighed on me.

Regret is a burden and it has weighed me down.

Clarity of mind, understanding "why", and clarity of heart and forgiveness of oneself for being so hard on oneself is freedom.

Edith Piaf...I have one of her albums and she was a very sad, tormented woman.

We all make mistakes. The strength in each of us is to learn, to get over, to pick ourselves up and to move on and to do better.

To harbor regrets is to live in the past with an oppressive weight. With the psychologist, I affronted my past and it was a great exercise. One has to go through it (talk through it) to express it. For me, it was very cleansing to tell her what I felt bad about in my past. But then I realized most things were not really so bad but just "life". Mistakes. No foresight? Bad luck? Stuff. I wasn't and am not a bad person. I am a good person, a loving, kind person.

I feel you are too.

Un abrazo muy fuerte and I look forward to reading your new entries as probably many people do.

Kim from BCN

Anonymous said...

Where is Betsy?!!

Kim from BCN.

estherisla said...

I'm right here, Kim. No excuses. Have three drafts started, haven't published any of them. All is good. Just super full and hard to find time to write about...
Thanks for asking...