Gypsy Season

In which Springtime seduces our Lady. 

Dear Diary,

Here in Anchorage it feels like the heart of winter, and yet some mysterious biological clockwork inside of me claims it to be spring.  This week I have organized various parts of my house carefully into various Sterilite/Rubbermaid boxes.  Anything from batteries to lightbulbs, canned goods to art supplies, has found itself fitted snuggly into a new home.  I also have piles of items set aside for donation to Value Village.  Since moving into our house last year I’ve had no time to put things in order, and I found out the hard way that my physical state of disrepair was made much worse by the disreputable state of my house.  It is terribly frustrating to lose certain books or art supplies in a nearby room and not have the energy to search them out.  And so I am now driven to extreme house makeover, expending more energy than I really have into this mundane task. 

Besides this curiously overwhelming urge to organize, I have lately been fantasizing about gardening.  My brother Todd has drawn up a detailed plan of how my yard should look after several thousand dollars and ten years of work.  It is good of him, but meanwhile I keep my gaze firmly locked on hanging baskets and perhaps a few more houseplants.  I long for warm sun and growing things.  I have seeds already picked out, and nowhere yet to put them.  Story of my life: I make plans, and have no way to make them happen.

I am a flurry of activity whenever I find the energy to put toward it.  I am excited about spring.  Right now this is where most of my creative energy is going.  I’d like to tell you that I am 100% sure that a healthy and green spring full of health and vitality is just around the corner.  Unfortunately, an inexplicably chill breath of winter stirs in my heart as I wonder what the results of my MRI will be tomorrow.  It is very possible that all of my hard organizational work will have been done in the service of a sick and frustrated me rather than a biking, hiking, jogging me. 

In conclusion, I am really dealing much better with this round of uncertainty.  The last bit of MRI-stress nearly took me over the edge—it being the first time I had to face my future by 3-month segment.  But I could really use some fortune-telling gypsies camping out in a nearby copse of wood ready and willing to give me just a hint about what this next season will bring.