Living for Spring

We finally have some warm days ahead of us. The bleakness of the dreary days of winter are slowly waning, and I have begun to think spring. The constant drip of melting ice and snow is music to my ears. I’ve been buying seed packets while dreaming of my future gardens and flower beds. Reorganizing my home and paring down the clutter with fits of deep cleaning brings me peace. If you’re ADHD like me, you know what I’m talking about. SPACE! Room to move!
I finally put the last of the winter decor away and love the more minimal look of my home, even though I am definitely a maximalist at heart. I don’t know about you, but my creativity spikes during the warmer months. It seems as though when the temperature starts dropping, so do I. I slow way down. Nap more. Read more. Plan less. I literally could hibernate for the winter and never leave the house if I didn’t have to. The older I get the more introverted I’ve become.
As soon as the temps get above 40 degrees I’m ready for action. Raking,pruning,and purging everything that feels restricting and closed off. Most people I know are planning their spring getaways, where as I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere with so much to plan and get ready. I live for this shit! I’ve been waiting all winter for this! I call it nesting. Just like the spring birds, I ready my home for a more active lifestyle. Campfires, cookouts and deck parties are just around the corner. Days spent mowing the lawn and weeding the gardens. Early morning coffee outside just listening to the world come alive. I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it.
I think the change of seasons does us good. I live in an area where I experience all four. Nothing stays green all year long. The trees get bare and everything is covered with a blanket of snow for at least 3 months. Dark, grey, and gloomy. As soon as the holiday lights stop lighting up the neighborhood, I get in a funk. It’s almost like claustrophobia. I feel like my clothes are too tight and I get annoyed easily. The walls close in on me and I feel as if I’m living in a bubble. Or better yet, limbo. The space between life and death. I’m going through the motions but I’m not really living. I’m on autopilot. No creativity whatsoever.
This spring I am definitely getting my life together. I have certain health goals, along with self promoting my books. I turn the dreaded sixty and have decided that I can no longer sit around and wait for fate to notice me. I have to make some noise. “The squeaky wheel gets the grease”. It’s time to quit sitting on my hands expecting miracles. You have to do the work. So bring on the change of season and my life. It is welcomed. The long winter is over.