Today, my husband and I began our annual spring task--opening the pool. We have had a pool in our backyard since the summer of 1981. In fact, I spent major portions of that summer floating in the pool--since I was pregnant with our daughter, the weightlessness that water affords was wonderful, as was the cool!
But each spring, this chore looms large. And, as I get older, my muscles and bones ache more and more each year.
The reward, of course, is getting the job done finally. We're not quite there--maybe another half day of work, but things are shaping up outdoors. In another month--plant all the annuals!
Opening the pool is one of the ways to measure the approach of summer.
Here are some other ways.
The ice cream truck returns to the neighborhood.
Boys climb trees
New puppies come out to play.
Before spring gives way to summer, let's celebrate the last days of April with this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay.
TO what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
Comes like an
idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
by Edna St. Vincent Millay