A month after the BP oil rig disaster, Tony Hayward made his infamous remark about wanting his life back. It was the height of insenstivity, given the immensity of the event.
However, all of us secretly have said the same words, expecially after this long, snowy winter. At the risk of sounding insensitive, I have been mttering "I want my life back!" Said with a bit of guilt, because the slow easing into spring has meant a slower rate of melting, thus easing potential flooding. Snow has a way of being beautiful when it first falls, creating fairyland scenes. Or the bragging rights of records broken, even when it creates havoc in our lives. But the novelty wears thin, when the snow's whiteness has given way to a dirty collection system for human detritus.
When a late spring interferes with the season's rhythm to which we have been accustomed, folks can get downright crabby. Hey, the time to plant peas is the first of April - and this year, only a fool with a ice pick would have tried making little holes in frozen ground to drop in the seeds.
Sunday, we could not bear it any longer. Out to the deck with brooms to clear away the end result of sharing our living space with bird feeders. Then to the front yard where this year's snow had beaten down our grasses so badly that our house looked like a neglected residence.
Then the surprise! We walked around, checking out the garden, where surely nothing could be up. And there were the blooming snowdrops! Delicate and perfect, pushing their way through leaf mulch to gain their lives back. Nearby, daffodil had pushed through frozen soil, along with little red spikes of tulips emerging from winter slumber.
I announced in a loud voice (the neighbors still cowering in their houses): We are getting our life back!
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