thrust & glow & drink & feel & push & ache & hope & yearn...

Is this annual? Does this sense of URGENT URGENT RUN FIX LISTEN SAY DO NOW NOW NOW happen every year around this time? Anybody?

Maybe I’m just noticing it this time around – an old old cycle of violent push-through-the-dead-stuff growth. It’s equally possible that this is part of global climate change, and nothing will every be predictable, ever again.

Case in point: it’s April 17th in Owen Sound, and it’s been snowing and blowing all day long.

Sorry, no picture. Instead, I give you the poor cold, hungry bluejay….

loud, blue, agressively famished

I look around me with human eyes, and I feel it rising within – the urge to attack the piles of useless stuff anonymously left outside last fall. The undeniable inner growl that signals certain death to any thing, thought or habit that no longer serves forward movement. It’s more than a bit scary. See squirrel:

ready. to give anyone shit for anything.

It’s enough to make me aware that I shouldn’t spend too much time in public without supervision this weekend- I would most definitely offend (and then there would be the explanation, the apology, the clean-up – none of which I have any patience for, in my current state).

So if it is snowing in April, then let me be a snowplough, equal to the clearing of old, stagnant, dirty crap. Permit me to direct my springtime rage to good effect, so ground may be cleared for the garlic, the peas, the onions, the lettuce and the cilantro, which will only fulfill their full promise if the way is properly set. For it is rage as good as any irate squirrel will direct at you, if interfered with. Joyful unbounding rage as strong as a river freed from months of ice-bound paralysis, as it sweeps everything last-year-dead before it over the waterfall, into the gorge, into the river, into the bay.

If I could, I would forego sleep, and just work and move and listen and smell and watch and see…. until the pea-plants push through the soil, singing.