Monday was the first day since October that it was warm enough (and not raining) and I was able to hang out my wash on the clothesline. In the past I left my daughter napping or playing happily in her playpen while I did this chore, but seeing that she will be two years old in only two months and she loves the outdoors, I decided to bring her out with me. It was a challenge to balance the heavy laundry basket in one hip while guiding her down the deteriorating concrete back steps and verbally admonishing her to use the railing for support. But once we were out there, she seemed to really enjoy herself. She actually helped me take dry clothing off the line and put it in the laundry basket rather than just play in the dirt.
There is something about the warm weather that feels like new life. I watch my daughter explore her little world of our backyard and I think about spring. This has been a particularly long winter. The groundhog’s promise of an early spring proved inaccurate as the snow and cold continued on into April. With my recent miscarriage, the rain and cold certainly haven’t helped my mood. I was beginning to feel as though spring would never come. Now since that wonderful warm day we’ve had more gray days, but I try to remember that eventually the flowers will bloom and new life will arrive.
As usual, my daughter didn’t want to come back inside, but I couldn’t blame her. If I could live in days like this, I would.