Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Spring Cleaning

There must be something about seeing the never-stepped-on, brand-new grass, or the yard swept clean of leaves by the wind, or the pines washed by the rain.  Perhaps it's the example set by Nature sprucing up her world, but it's contagious.  Down through the ages, women have cleaned house in the spring, and it probably started with women throwing out the accumulated bones and cold ashes from the cave after being cooped in all winter.  Whatever it is, I'm in its grip, albeit grateful that it's an acute case and not a chronic condition.  Windows, curtains, comforters all in the process of being washed.  Nooks neglected in the dim light of winter are being dusted.  The collected pieces of pressed glass sparkle on the sills.  For a long time after Steve died I went through the motions, but hated the house when it gleamed and everything was in its was like getting ready for a party that no one would attend.  Time does heal, and now I find just a tremendous satisfaction in the routine of spring cleaning for itself.  Those things that used to be ours have gradually become mine alone.  There is pleasure in walking through rooms and seeing them shine.  Knowing me, I'll probably become complacent again about the layers of dust that summer brings daily, and lackadaisical about mopping, but right now I'll go on with spring cleaning.

The pedestrian vultures have gathered for a conclave in the front drive this morning and the dozen or so attendees are spreading their wings in their ritual to greet the sun.  Latecomers float down quietly and join in.  All four of the Mafia Boys dined here last night.  I don't know where Carmine has been, but for now all's right in my (clean) world.

1 comment:

Kathryn said...

I would like to say that you have inspired me, but...only time will tell. I must say that the concept of spring cleaning is much easier to understand in Ohio than in sunny Southern California. It was such a GLORIOUS feeling to be able to open the windows for the first time after a long, cold winter back there, and it did, indeed inspire new beginnings. Who knows...maybe I'll wash some of my mom's cut glass because you are right - it is so much nicer when it sparkles!! Thanks for the kick in the butt!