The Universe has conspired to reveal signs of spring–even to me–who remains indoors, to spite herself, in a boycott of all unseasonable weather.
For days now, I’ve watched, as the single green seat cushion–the one that we bought on clearance, and placed outside–prematurely–atop one of the four metal seats, that came with the round patio table, that we brought home from the Marlboro Community Sale, on free day–takes a tour around my yard, compliments of a wintry wind.
At first it blew to the South, near the Birch that I loved when we first cleared this land for our home, but which over the years has become a stump of itself.
I worried that we’d loose the cushion, the only one we had, but I didn’t retrieve it.
The next day, I noticed that it had blown into the West, just past the raised beds.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…
Every year we added another,
and stopped at 7.
It was closer now, so I could easily grab it, but I left it there, out in the cold, while I remained inside.
I’m not sure what the cushion did during the nights, whether it headed North or over the house, but the next morning, I looked out from my bedroom to spy it near the outdoor shower, in the East, at the edge of the woods.
I left it there, until I came home that afternoon, and saw that it had moved closer, beside something of… color.
I dashed from the driveway, past the woodshed, and the tool shed, over the place where the remnants of the last snow pile left its debris, and up the stone path to the wannabee garden of perennials competing with weeds where we dug in a handful of bulbs despite our need for desire for immediate gratification.
There beside the fair cushion was the COLOR PURPLE!
The first color of spring!
I ran inside for the camera, and took a tour around the land–to each of the places where the cushion led,
and then brought it inside,
Sighs of spring…