Overnight, this state turned beautiful again.
As I write this, I have every window in the apartment open, and the peepers are singing. Abbey is sitting on the ledge, tormenting herself about the various birds and squirrels that are playing at the edge of the woods.
Suddenly everything smells good, feels good, looks good. Or is getting there. This place is greening. Trees are budding. People are out in their gardens.
Here at our complex, a pack of landscapers swarmed the tiny cluster of buildings set back in the trees and cleaned everything up. They closed the parking lot for an afternoon and swept the dirt and sand off the pavement. They mulched. They planted. The trimmed and clipped and tidied.
I've started wearing sandals. Strappy, sexy sandals.
This weekend at our writers' group meeting we sat out on a patio and sipped Lemon Drops until the sun went down and the owners came around to start the miniature fireplaces next to our circle of chairs.
Right now, right this very second, our department is hatching a plan to challenge everyone else on campus to a Miniature Golf-Off, where we will prove--once again--our superiority in athleticism and cunning.
I'm trying to decide what dress I'll wear under my robe at graduation.
I want a glass of lemonade.
Everything, everything, everything is getting good. Our end-of-the-semester paper chain countdown has us in the single digits, and tomorrow morning when I go in, my creative writing class and I are going to be making chapbooks to showcase the work we did over the semester. I am going to walk into the class and heap the following things on the front table: four different colors of glitter, puff paint, ribbon, construction paper, stamps, crayons, markers, paint, and paintbrushes. I am going to let them loose and see what they create, see how they represent their creative work.
Can you think of a better way to spend an afternoon?