Spring, Glorious, Um What the Hell Is That?

The snow is mostly melted Up the Valley, although there is still a deadly sheet of ice remaining conveniently around the base of our front steps. My HSH fell on his teakettle the other morning. I nearly did the same this afternoon while trying to take Nora the Destroya out to the fence. Fortunately, she pulled me like an expert sled dog across the microtundra. It is just today that the snow has completely melted. And although we expect another dusting tonight, we are revelling in the promise of spring - the muddy, scrubby, branch-scrapy promise of spring.

When the snow melts, it reveals a whole world that you forgot existed. There, by the back steps are a pair of Xerxes' shoes that he must have taken off because they were too disgusting to enter the house. Now I will have to go out with a stick and nudge them into a plastic bag, which I will double tie and put into a larger garbage bag, which I will also double tie.

And along the front walk, where soon there will bloom crocuses and daffodils, there are two deer tails. In the back yard, a deer jaw bone.

Either my dogs have found the secret place where my Country Neighbors clean their kill or my HSH is a member of a blood cult, and sooner or later I'm going to find myself in one of those typical Rosemary's Baby situations.

Who hasn't been there?

Meanwhile, Bee wants to go back outside and look at the bone.

No, I tell her. It's icky. I don't want to go look at the bone.

It's not icky to me. I don't think it's icky to see things that are under your skin. Did you know that under your gums there is blood and under the blood there are bones?

Yes. I think maybe you'll be a doctor one day.

No. Ballerina.

Yes. A ballerina with a dark side.

~~~~~~

Later, I am putting both girls to bed. Bee is characteristically first to fall asleep. Posey takes longer.

I luz you, Mama, she says.

I love you too.

She holds up her hand, signing "I Love You." I return with the same sign, and we touch fingers.

Then she holds up her whole hand, fingers spread.

Five! she says.

No. No five. Time for night-night.

Four? Three?