Spring comes early inside

Somewhere in humanity’s past, spring cleaning became some sort of tradition. I imagine this probably originated when we all lived in one-room cabins. When fresher weather arrived, the necessity to cart everything outside and beat it clean with a broom was essential after months of living together in a small space without much (if any) bathing and little (if any) outdoor activity except the daily trip to the barn.

I don’t know how many people still partake of the full meaning of spring cleaning. I certainly don’t haul my couch outside every spring, nor do I even take the rugs outside to beat accumulated dust out of them. Some wonderful entrepreneur invented the vacuum for that purpose. But there is still enough of the ritual ingrained in taking care of a house that when I do catch that first scent of spring, I want to throw open the windows and make everything in my house as fresh as the world outside.

Unfortunately, by the time this sensation has registered I no longer have any desire to actually be in my house. With that fresher air, warmer days and outdoor pursuits pull me away with much higher frequency. Spending the day with my nose in my closet, rooting around for accumulated dust is not how I imagine spending a fresh spring day. I want to be out of doors with my hands in the soil or my face to the long-hidden sun.

Therefore, many years I find myself on a “spring cleaning” rampage in late winter. Spring is close enough to arriving that it feels as if it is time to give the house a fresh start, but still far enough away that I find myself indoors for most days.

I find spring cleaning to not just be a good time to get rid of accumulated dust but also to get rid of accumulated stuff. It’s remarkable what can pile up around the house in the space of a year. So while I don’t exactly take every item of clothing out of my closet and beat it clean with a broom, I do find myself flipping through the rack, culling out items that are too threadbare to wear anymore, or putting toys in the donation pile that my daughter has outgrown.

Recently, a friend was remarking that her 10-year-old daughter is a pack rat and has trouble throwing anything away. I was reminded that I used to be this way too. I clearly remember boxing up stuffed animals and toys when I was a teenager, telling my mother that I wanted to save them for my children to play with and under no circumstances were we to give them away. Either that was serious foresight, or an inability to let go of items that I had outgrown.

When we are young, throwing away something that was once special is terrifying. Like insinuating that by discarding it, we are discarding something that defined our young lives. We wonder that if we throw it away we won’t remember what it was like to curl around that soft teddy bear or win that three-legged race or read that favorite book.

It is not until we are older that we realize that possessions can sometimes simply become clutter and an excess weight to carry around in our already heavy lives.

Having just moved across the country a year ago, I executed a fantastic purge of superfluous belongings. Moving is even better than the yearly clean out and clean up of the house. With that in mind, I find my spring cleaning to be a little light this year. Regardless, it’s still remarkable just what can accumulate in the corners of the house, everything from dust bunnies to worn out shoes and outgrown toys still need to be purged.

And although the official start of spring is still a month away, I suppose as long as we are still cooped up inside, I might as well tackle those dust bunnies.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington, Februrary 22, 2012.

In Awe of a Winter Wonderland

If I could wave a magic wand and change something about myself, topping the list would be how affected I am by the weather.  I am nearly always too cold.  Occasionally I am too hot; it’s either too sunny, or too cloudy, or too wet or too dry.  Rarely am I perfectly content with the temperature or my reaction to it.

I used to think this was simply a personality glitch, but then I got frostbite—first in April and then in August—and I knew my body was clearly unhappy about the weather too.

There is one exception to this litany of complaints, and that’s when the sky opens up and dumps out a snowstorm.  I absolutely love snow.  If it’s very cold, I don’t want to go outside, but if it’s very cold with snow, then I’m the first one out the door.  The child in me emerges and my feelings about the weather run towards giddy.  Having spent most of my childhood in warmer, southern states, it still feels exceptionally magical when it snows, however juvenile that may sound.

I suspect I am not the only adult who professes a childlike love of a good snowfall.  A few weeks ago, the Grand Coulee area got a wonderful snowstorm.  Friday night saw crowds of families at North Dam Park careening down the local sledding hill.  It didn’t seem to matter that the mercury didn’t even top 20 degrees.  Kids from toddlers to teenagers were bundled up, shoving the powdery snow in their mouths and flopping down in the soft white fluff to make snow angels.  Adults were scattered across the rim of the hill, content to watch their happy children cavort in the snow.  Some of them, myself included, catapulted down the hill with them, laughing in equal delight.  Someone even put their muscles to work and built a questionable jump off the concrete benches for the downhill racers. 

Regardless of the temperature, after a few trips up and down that hill toting a sled and a toddler, cold is the farthest thing from my mind.  The simplistic wonder of frozen precipitation apparently can bring out the best in me—I wasn’t cold one bit.

The anticipation and activity of the holiday season has passed us, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we have to cocoon ourselves in our houses until spring.  With only four seasons to the year, it seems a shame to waste one of them simply waiting for it to be over. 

So, we go ice-skating in Wenatchee, skiing in Idaho, snowshoeing in Northrup Canyon, and sledding wherever we can find a suitable hill.  People seem to be extra friendly when they are outdoors in a winter wonderland, like everyone is sharing in a small gift.  Smiles are wide; conversations with genderless strangers, bundled head to toe in unidentifiable gear are friendly and swift as you ride the chairlift or console a crying child who flipped their sled.

Like when I was a kid, snow seems to bring out the best in outdoor fun.  There has been a lull of some months where playing outdoors was top on our list of daily activities.  It has been cold and dark.  But somehow, when it’s cold and dark and snowy, the effect is softer, more inviting. 

I know that snow offers a substantial amount of inconvenience to most people.  Shoveling a driveway is serious work.  Roads are icy and dangerous, boots are muddy, and the parking lots are slippery.  As I write this, the rain is washing away much of our accumulated snow and the feeble sun is melting the rest.  I know most people around town will be happy about this, but I can’t help but hope the weatherman will tell me another big storm is on its way before our next season is upon us.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington.  February 8, 2012