A Tide of Swallows

I heard a single Flicker somewhere beyond my thinking mind, hopping from rooftop to treetop, chirping and chittering before he flew off again. My internal state is the same and I’m looking for a transformation.

That cat sitting there, looking up at me quizzingly with his bright eyes and his tuxedo face as the rains broke and the sun burst through the clouds made me yearn for simpler, furrier, more innocent times. Things continue to be challenging for us as the Wheel of Fortune keeps turning and the Worldly Winds blow strong in all directions.

We went looking for cherry blossoms today and found only a single territorial hummingbird fiercely defending his realm from a gaggle of bush tits. Both of us are exhausted, but had an enjoyable evening out with friends, my first social event in the last three weeks.

Big, fat raindrops fell against grey skies but also raised the fresh smell of spring. Both of us had massive breakdowns today with big, fat tears but also with some resolution.

Some small promise of sunlight through the rains and the song of the bird we cannot identify has come to visit once again. Work shifted a bit for me today and gave me a few surprising and bright moments, but my anxiety still wins out in the equation of my moods.

I took a walk today through the drizzling rain and observed the promise of cherry blossoms swelling like cranberries on the early waking trees and water pooling in shimmering beads on those that still slept. I am looking for sense in the small places, which at the moment involves moments of laughter and deep, dreamless sleep.

Rain is running down gutters choked with old starling nests, the windblown lost, and the hidden treasures of crows, falling onto the windowsills in an endlessly repeating cadence until the grey days begin merging together as one watercolor smudge. I holed up in my cave, balance scattered by recent life, and found some solace away from myself.

When I walked outside tonight, I realized I wasn’t wearing a coat and that the air seemed lighter and warmer – not the wind change yet to come, but a murmur of something shifting. I fInally received some good news and a welcome gift of time from my wife who went to our tax meeting without me while I battled code and expectations.

I barely looked out the window today, other than to watch the tuxedo cat from the corner of my eye, and hear some faraway jay scolding the unseen. A marathon work day leads to dinner at 11pm and too too tired eyes.

The rain in March is softer, not the ice daggers of January and February but something more nourishing, warmer and with a faint promise held within it. I thought about the wind change as we turned the corner to the Ninja Escape Room only to be blasted with a dose of winter coming up Aurora towards the North, a reminder that transitions sometimes take longer than we want them to.

The cherry trees everywhere were festooned with luscious red and pink buds that glistened in the sun rain as sleek spring crows called their names from the telephone poles, soared soundlessly from rooftop to the muddy verge, and forage-hopped through the sprouting grass. My head again reacted with force to whatever was coming into being, my allergies another marker that this has been a challenging year on my immune system.

The grey, wet blanket did nothing to deter mating pairs of Flickers who called out their jungle cries from the hopeful canopy of the tree next door. Daylight Saving Time muddled me, with some uncommon good work news a bright light in the afternoon.

The crows rode the updrafts, dark shapes swooping back and forth across the road as I approached the first blooms of a single, brave cherry tree that was exploding in heady pink scent. Exercise at last feels good.

Everything is on the edge of change – a single flower peeks through the chain link, clouds break long enough to warm the porch slats underfoot, puffed-up robins call as the evening approaches, and yet the wind is icy and cold, the sky often heavy and the nuts and berries long from emergence. I’m on the edge as well, but what I’m on the edge of, I’m not exactly sure.

When the sun finally came out in full force, it revealed a changed world – trumpets of daffodils swaying in the breeze, deep green grass blanketing the softened earth,  the snowy mountain stretching in the midst of March against the crystal blue skies. Our tasks are finally in order, and although there is much to do, the countdown now begins to both England and a new way of living.

From the depths of the grey, somewhere behind the sheets of rain, a single songbird played a piccolo solo, a perfect, sharp trill that cut through winter’s surprising return, performed just once before fading back into the haze. For the first time in months, we had a normal evening watching television and connecting with each other, comforted by routine.

It was perfection – Peekaboo sunshine seen from a deck overlooking one of my favorite lakes, the breaks in the cloud cover reflected in gathered puddles on the wood, the rolling hillside on the far shore dappled in gold yet frosted by the ice winds. I went to a first birthday party today and everything felt right and good and hopeful.

Tiny perfect pinecones and delicate white flowers lay in the cracks near the sidewalk, red blossoms hung like bursting berries on bare tree limbs, and beyond them the whole expanse of mountains reflected the sunlight as dogs with clear coats and humans hungry for spring took to the park. I had a fantastic time visiting with old friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen for years, and felt like maybe things were okay after all.

As work again shutters the windows and narrows the room to single glowing screen, I trade the world I truly love for the world of necessity. I sometimes wonder what my life would look like had I made other choices, but each time I do, I realize I would never want to give up the good things I have found along this path.

The evening draws the grey clouds close, shepherds them into the night sky, shifting its once midnight black into a deep, dark blue with a light that will grow through the coming months and become the backdrop for summer. I am struggling again with the various pieces of my life, my desire, my dreams, and the rolling, roiling expanse of my oceanic mind.