bulbs

It is Tuesday night & we are headed to the theater. It is the end of a very warm front & the temperature drops despite the presence of Lilian's tights and little skirt. We scatter from Wayne's car as he drops us off in front of the Orpheum and I think this is the last non-freezing breath I will take for a while. Sure enough the next evening I am wandering Dinky town with Annette trying to find a coffee shop with an open table. Our breath almost freezes in front of us and I tug at my hood to warm my ears. We stand in the middle of an intersection looking at each other with ruddy pink cheeks and decide to wait out a table nearby.
Myrtle once told me she was concerned about the warm winters we have had lately- the on and off of intermittent freezing combined with thawing ice and uncovering of grass. Myrtle has not been outside for three years but she watches us students shuffle down the alley wearing sweat shirts and skirts from her window that looks out on rooftops and alleys. "Plants need time to retreat to their roots so they can sleep and rest and come out refreshed in the spring," she tells me. "They cant sleep with weather like this. They are shaken awake prematurely from their slumber by the teasing sun and warmth of the ground."
I think of the restless roots and bulbs this year and I wonder how many of us are similar during the winter months. The days are shortened to perhaps encourage us to retreat to our own roots, rest, and be refreshed for spring. We all resist a little bit but we resist reluctantly. I have been fighting my hibernation but it is a full out battle to get to the threshold of my apartment, open the door, and exit. Too much to do in such a short life.
Stefanie, I too am excited about the receeding evenings and the sunrise in the morning that guides my commute.