It’s early Friday evening and the end of another week of tough commuting. Yes, some snow piles are thinning, and yes, we had Wednesday’s warmth to remind us that winter will abate. But when I ran my hand across the top of my dresser this morning I wondered: could the thin film of dust I touched have metaphysical counterparts? Would the snow as seen from space look like this dust? And do we, as we trudge into the station or crowd onto another overstuffed bus wear a dusty veil of winter weariness?
I’m wagering it will be easier to grab my dust-busting wand tomorrow, skirt around the picture frames, and give the flat surfaces the proverbial “lick and a promise” than it will be to peer at the grey skies and trees and imagine a full blooming garden. But that doesn’t mean deep down under the deep snow, those processes that bring the garden to flower aren’t happening. March in New England gives us the opportunity to seize hope and remain steadfast in it.
Cabin fever begone, I say. At the risk of what some might label false optimism, let’s fire up the paper shredder, find the embroidery hoop, mend the loops on the coats that have all come undone, and enjoy this colder-than-we-wish-it was day.
Besides, today’s paper (it’s now Saturday) includes a nice review of a new book that sounds like a great read. I’m going to find, or order Rust: The Longest War[i] as soon as I post this. And now that I think of it, (I sure didn’t plan it…) Rust rhymes with Dust…
and THAT somehow seems fitting for Pi day (doesn’t it?!)
[i] Petrosky, Henry. “The Weakest Link,” Wall Street Journal Saturday/Sunday March 14-15, 2015 page C8 reviews Jonathan Waldman’s Rust: The Longest War. Simon & Schuster, 2015.