It seems we often are confronted with the complications of water. Here, a snowy winter has turned to a wet spring - flooding north and south of us, and the ground dangerously saturated. Overnight a sinkhole opened on a main thoroughfare from an antiquated, collapsed brick sewer line.
Time can feel like this too - so much or so little - the semester's squeeze and thirst, and now the expanse of summer and so many possible projects. I'm sure my list couldn't be completed by ten women in ten summers, but the imagination runs wild. Much of what I'd like to do is outside. This summer's goal is to brighten the face of the house. Fresh paint on the shutters and porch, and a newly designed and planted flower garden curving up the front walk. I got a baby lilac in before the last heavy rains.
But I have things to do inside as well. I want to send out a new chapbook manuscript, and write, and read, and paint a few rooms upstairs.
Unlike the robin who has tried several times to build a nest on a too-narrow ledge on my porch, I hope to complete a few tasks. I like having many things started, but too much starting over is hard on the spirit.