THE LULU CHRONICLES
|Atticus- wet and happy|
It was spring today. It may go back to being winter tomorrow, but today you could almost hear the soft, lime green tulip sprouts breaking through the damp thawed earth. It was glorious. It was all I could do to keep myself from scooping up a handful of mud and burying my nose into its mossy, cool, goopy smell.
This is the first spring for Atticus the pup. Last week the pond was still frozen. Today, the ice is all gone and Atticus couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t walk on water. However, once he waded up to his chest, the call of the wild captured his soul and he realized that this was what he was born to do.
This is my first spring too. The first one without the Hubs. As I sat on the swing overlooking our pond, I ached to see him across the way on his tractor. I could almost feel his weight sitting next to me on the swing, the one that he had built. He loved putzing around this place. I could see him planting a tree across the pond, or sitting next to his burn pile in his ball cap, or gathering the limbs from under the willows that winter had coaxed down. I could hear him in his workshop tuning up his John Deere. Spring always got him chomping at the bit to get outside and work these three little acres of ours.
This afternoon it was just me. As the ground under foot yawned and rubbed the sleep out of its eyes, I missed Gary so much I could hardly walk. How he loved watching the earth wake up from the vantage point of South Moon. Yeah, that’s what we named this place. It’s taken from a book written by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, South Moon Under. This was our place. Our haven. Now what?
I sat for a long time watching Atticus romp like a schoolboy on a playground. As he discovered nature’s bounty in dead bullfrogs, damp sticks and open spaces, I pondered. I talked to Gary. I talked to God. I talked to both of them at the same time. I asked them what they were going to do with me. I wanted to know the plan. Neither one of them were real forth coming. A message is whispered through the willows and blown across the pond. Keep moving. Keep breathing in and out. Wait. Trust. Be still. Listen. Fear not. Go see if the tractor will start.
Gary would have liked Atticus, especially today, dripping wet, dried leaves stuck on his tail, and a soggy stick clamped in his jaws.
It was spring today. My first.