When we arrived home from our week-long camping adventure in northern Kentucky (where we had suffered through extreme cold, frozen water, snow and way too much walking), I was surprised to see that our yard was full of daffodils popping up everywhere. It always gives me hope to see their sunny faces emerge pre-spring, during the dreary month of February. I do not recommend camping or even basic travel in that most sad of seasons in the South, unless you plan to go to the tropics. Christmas is over and spring is definitely still far enough away that it just seems impossible that it's ever going to get here. Even my dear neighbor who lives in Alaska most of the year says that she's colder in the wet, humid Georgia winter than she is when she's in Alaska. Either way, I'm glad to still be breathing and glad that those yellow and green bits of happiness are growing all around our property. I didn't plant all those flowers -- some thoughtful person in the past did it. I might love them for it.
My husband had knee surgery a few weeks back, and finally got free of his cane. With two more weeks of rehab left, he got the gumption to clean out the barn. I send out bags and boxes of junk to the various charities every month, but there must be a truck of elves backing up to the house at night, emptying out their leftovers. The barn was bursting to the eaves with all manner of detritus and it was becoming dangerous to step inside. Anything that was on the floor was pulled out to the driveway and Ken started setting items at the curb to give away. I'm always amazed at how quickly even the strangest items get snapped up, one of the great things about living in town. We meet some of the nicest people when we do this, and the stuff gets a chance at a second life (hopefully instead of the landfill). Three of my Christmas trees are now someone else's problem -- and that means I'll have to shop for one next year, something I haven't done in decades.
As I was sifting through all the sentimental things, many that I haven't set eyes on in years, I was reminded that letting go of physical things can be very cathartic, even if it is difficult to do. What good is all this stuff, if it's just clogging up space? No one is looking at it or paying attention to it. And if we don't manage it, someday our kids will have to. In real estate, I often deal with estate listings and I see the trials of families having to parse through their peoples' belongings and get rid of truckloads of paper, plastic and brown furniture that nobody really wants. I'm asking my children if they want anything in my house...why wait 'til we're dead to let them enjoy something they can have now? Not that I'm anticipating dying any time soon, but shedding all the extraneous helps me to think clearer and see through to the people I care about, rather than all the clutter that's falling on my head.
Spring really might be coming soon. Gulp in that sweet, warm air before the pollen gets here!
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