thawing

And the weather suddenly changed and temperatures rose and now the skiing is slushy and the ice is breaking up. The roads and shoulders are gritty with the accumulated sand of a whole winter, so these days are the in between period, that pause before the first green, still brown and half dead looking.
But the sunshine and double digit temperatures have transformed the town regardless. All the bicycles are out, even if they still have skis strapped to them, and one sees ankles and toes and knees, pale and startled looking in the sun. People are giddy to be wearing one layer only, myself included.
And I've had fingers in the soil, spied a worm, planted some hopeful chive and nasturtium seeds into the most thawed planter box. The doors are open during the day, the laundry rack stands in a snow free patch.
My greatest joy of these days is working barefoot. The feel of that old wooden floor is warm, smooth and somehow soft. I pad around the table, all my foot joints get to move, they're no longer encased in socks and clogs. And it's a delight being in my treatment room, the white walls, the deep yellow of the wood, the contrasting green of slim plant leaves like spears. My little red horses on the windowsill against the backdrop of Mt Begbie, always majestic. There's a smell like cedar, and clean laundry, and a hint of menthol. I have rarely ever felt so deeply good in a room. It only matches the way I felt in that fourth floor retro apartment in Vancouver, when I was working at the track ten years ago. I always felt like I had lived a whole life in that place, like it was made of the same thing I was. It breaks my heart to leave such rooms. One finds them so rarely. And lately, there has been so much time spent laying awake in rooms that make me feel clammy, claustrophobic, or overly concerned. That don't house me and my memories and dreams very well.
I'm being presented with tough compromises lately; keep that amazing treatment room but also keep sleeping in that bedroom, get a full work load but have to move to a new town, get very little work but stay in this gorgeous little town, stay in this little town but not see hamish all summer.
I missed some close girlfriends this evening, more than usual. I locked up the clinic in the post sundown glow and the air was fresh and clean and I felt light and energetic and wanted to show up on a friend's porch unanounnced and have a little puff, a little talk, enjoy the last of the light. I need community.

Hamish has been incapacitated by fever, burning up, barely managing to eat a few potatoes.
We had our first successful DirtBag Ball, finished the night with wide grins. His costume included an inflated airbag with the words yeah and nah and people were asking whether he had proposed. Should have.