The Arrival

Today my son's daycare closed three hours early to preempt the arrival of a severe winter storm. After I picked him up we ran some errands, to the library and the grocery store, and he fell asleep in the car during the one-mile ride home. I unloaded a mountain of unfinished work that I'd brought home (anticipating government paralysis tomorrow), a pile of library books, and about 10 bags of groceries, plus R's daycare bag and a 12-pack of sodas. I also moved the trash cans out of the street so the snow plow wouldn't hit them. All of this with - I kid you not - 1-inch fat snowflakes flying everywhere. I finally stumbled through the front door for the last time, pregnant and bulky with two coats on, with about a foot of water soaking its way up the legs of my pants and a sleeping toddler in my arms. As I tripped out of my shoes and up the stairs, trying not to let R's head rest in any of the freezing cold snowflakes on my coat, I trod all over the hems of my sopping wet pants, frigid water gushing out into my socks, between my toes and all over the carpet.

But I was undaunted; nay, I was giddy! "Why?" you might ask. Because somewhere in all that activity I decided to check the mail, where I found these two lovely packages waiting for me, signaling that even now, in the depths of a miserable winter storm with the candles and flashlights ready to go, spring is in the air. The unmistakable smell of dill wafting from my mailbox shouted: seeds!