Cabin Fever

Is it Spring yet?  In the front yard, the view is brown. That's because the front street side yard has the good cover, the nice grass that the neighbors and passerbys can see. And that good thick St. Augustine has enough sense to not put on it's pretty green summer frock until Winter has made it's exit.

 Now the back yard, well that's a different story.  The back yard is the heavily used playground, the well trampled home of the patio that takes us from garage or trips to the mailbox into the back door. The back door, where all of our family and close friends are welcomed into our home.   The back yard is not for show, it's for use. This space has all the trappings of warm weather outdoor activities, the picnic table and chairs, the outdoor seating, the bar-b-que and fire pit. The place we stand around the fire in the early Spring and Fall, don our sandals and shorts in the Summer and flip burgers, lounge around on the seating and have iced beverages.  The yard surrounded by a tall wooden fence that blocks out the eyes but not the pleasant sounds of the neighbors as they enjoy their days. 

The grass in the back yard is not the lush lawn of the front, it's the very diverse mix of whatever will grow in sandy soil, some areas fully exposed to the changing climate and some covered with tall old hardwood trees.  This eclectic stretch of  grass is not shy, popping up this time of year in all different heights and shapes and with great courage, it is dressed in green. It braves the undeniable fact that any night could leave it covered with frost.  And though, when (and IF) the summer finally sets in, here in the scorching Texas sun, it will struggle to survive and not look so good, for now it gives us this promise that Spring might soon arrive.

Of course, I don't for a second trust that this long Winter is done. I don't need some stinking old ground hog to tell me that.  When my feet hit the floor in the morning, I immediately slide into my fuzzy house shoes, grab some fleece to wear and follow that chilly trail that the hubby has created through the house to the coffee pot.  That well worn path that leads from his recliner to the window and back to the window, and to the kitchen, to the window and to the bathroom...to the window and dejectedly back to the chair.  As if, looking out the window will somehow make old man Winter pick up his pace and go away.  But the old man stubbornly dawdles around.  I'm speaking of the Winter now, not my cantankerous but lovable old spouse. Old man Winter just keeps hanging around and even if you step into the bright sun, he coughs out his cold breath on you, to let you know he is still in residence.  

So, the bold back yard junk grass gives me a spot of hope.  Among the birds popping around in the weeds (might as well admit it, it's mostly weeds) is a robin and the fruitless pair tree that is always the very first to bloom actually has buds.  The hubby is banging around in his closet and he comes up his Winter trodden trail, muttering to himself, By God, I'm going to the golf course today. Our temporary separation has become imperative.  He, determined to go outside and me, dreaming of a silent television, clean counter tops and perhaps a purse shopping expedition.  It's not Spring yet, but I see a distant vision, feel a promise of warmth.  Perhaps we will cure this cabin fever.  As always, the freshness of Spring is wonderful medicine.  Soon, we plan to take a vacation, we'll walk in the sun, outside and like each other again...at least until the summer heat makes us miserable and grumpy and pushes us back inside under the air conditioner.