After the perfect temps in New Orleans, I didn't ever want to be cold again, but the weather had other plans. Even Clio found it difficult to find the motivation to go for her daily run. Other people didn't even bother going to the door. The flowers were confused by everything, as usual. Except for the snowdrops, who pushed through the snow and lit the ground like luminaria. I planted these bulbs in early November and had forgotten about them, which is the best approach to bulbs. "Did we plant these?" asked Stephen. "I can't remember," I said mostly truthfully. "They look nice though." It was harder to forget about the orchids, given how perfectly orange they were and given that they require a more-intensive care regime than 1) bury them, and 2) forget step (1).
"It's going to be very warm soon," said Zephyr, who unlike the groundhog turned out to be right. Did you go outside this weekend? If so, and if you live in the northeast, then you know it was INSANE. Insanely nice, actually, if you could forget about global warming and the imminent destruction of the planet and so many other horrible things. The hellebores are in bloom. Elektra took her position to guard against evil things. "I feel like I've lost faith in so much over the course of my fifty years on this planet," she explained, "but I'm going to work hard to maintain a little piece of idealism and hope." The snowdrops concurred. I also concurred, I thought, as I arrived at the park on my Saturday run. At this time of the morning, it was empty (of people) and beautiful. And glistening. And insanely warm and pleasantly misty. As I passed the heather, I thought about my eleventh grade English teacher who believed that the ghosts of Heathcliff and Catherine wandered the moors. Inspired by the memory and the landscape, I stopped to reenact Kate Bush singing Wuthering Heights. The cotoneaster collected water and waited for the sun to rise. I resumed my run. Everyone else was still in bed. "There are so many people in the world, but thankfully none of them are here," one heather said to another heather. I explained to the heathers, who were discussing U.S. politics, that not all people were awful. For example, there's Kate Bush, whose dance they had just seen me attempt. And here's a young hot gay bear who tweeted a picture of himself reading the German translation of my novel, which like the snowdrops I had forgotten I even wrote, but has just been published in Germany this week by an imprint/publishing house that specializes in translations of gay English-language authors. I know, right? I couldn't believe that such an entity could exist when I first learned about it a little over a year ago, but here's the proof. Tell all your German friends to get ready, because we're all moving to Berlin and/or Vienna :)