The ritual of going through cupboards on a yearly basis to clean out the old and bring in the new—changing shelf linings, de-cluttering, rummaging under beds, and all that sprucing up is for the birds.
Actually, it IS for the birds. For these past several weeks I’ve noticed an up-surge in the numbers of birds visiting my habitat. From the twittering in the trees, to the hummingbirds visiting their feeder, to the bird poop on my car, they’ve been busy getting ready for the season of life and newness. I even had some birds visiting my hanging plants—removing moss and planting materials with which to build their nests. Made me feel like I should get busy.
So suddenly I’m modeling the birds’ behavior—bringing life into muscle and bone! Motivated to clear out old paper work, I dived into a filing cabinet and was able to nearly fill up my recycle bin with papers from various sources.
And since my approach to all aspects of life is haphazard, I next went into my storage shed—a feat requiring awesome quantities of motivation and strength—and removed all my camping equipment. Ahh, you might think: this woman is contemplating a trip into nature, a visit to the back of beyond. Nope, I want to sell the stuff. Make inventories, price lists and post everything on Craigslist. A new kind of spring cleaning: de-clutter AND make money.
But wait, there’s another spring time activity I’ve recently embraced: GARDENING! With the amazingly brilliant amount of rain, my garden has blossomed. Well, sort of. Some plants are literally choking with the proliferations of weeds. So last Saturday I spent at least two hours—using approved methods of bending and digging, being ever mindful of my back and butt—to rid my small flower beds of a noxious weed—oxalis.
Ode to Oxalis: I embrace and celebrate you in places where your brilliant yellows and abilities to attract the odd bee shines forth, but please, restrict your habitat to the wide open spaces and leave my small corners of cultivation alone.
Yeah, like that method works.
It’s a real pity that spring doesn’t last longer, because before too much longer, the hot days of summer are upon us—and the birds—and there’s hardly enough crisp fresh air to breathe, nor energy to find a worm.