The yellow school bus rolls by around three in the afternoon and with it comes not even the faintest whisper of temptation. The Fed Ex truck, the UPS driver, the big yellow school bus, all of these are but regular passersby in this–our distant country community.
Precipitation today is not as remarkable as the water and skies. Snows and recent rains had sent the lake to eclipse the shore. My husband took notice, and subsequent action, as the higher waters gave reason for alarm. Hmm, he wondered. Is the overflow clogged?
Indeed, it was, but not anymore.
The kids and I continue in our tasks of daily learning. The recent bursts of natural color give rise to the quiet inner joy and inspiration. Fishing poles are being prepped as I type, and already I have caught the first glimpse of boys’ swimming trunks. “This year, Mom, we will set a new record.” They are eager to jump toward our May 1st tradition. The time I let them wade is brief, tempered by the knowledge one is fighting a cough.
“Boys, it’s too cold”.
I am still their mother.
And you can’t rush the spring.