Spring in Oly

As you may have noticed, I have not been 'blogging' lately. (I still can't use that term without quotation marks...)
Us northwest locals tend to become very inward in the late winter months. Funny that I can't even seem to leave my house virtually. It seems the internet might provide some solace in this lonesome season- that I might happily huddle near the glow of the electric fire, but instead I consume myself with inward activities and solitary work. I make my plans for the future. I reminisce. Strange things from the past come back to haunt me. I write for reflection, not for connection. I read more, and return my library books less. I drink more heated, caffeinated beverages and buzz about the house. I listen to CDs.
But as spring begins to push its way up and burst out all over, I find myself returning to the outer world. The first day of blue sky is so unbearably sweet it seems surreal. The streets of downtown fill with people. It is like the festival we've all been waiting for.
We live off that day for weeks, speaking more quickly, rising earlier, staying up later, calling neglected friends, feeling giddy and flirtatious like teenagers. Nevermind that the days since have been dark and drippy. Like flowers, once our blossoming has begun, we pay no mind to the five-day forecast. We even think silly things to ourselves like, "I think its high time I bought a swimsuit. Its practically summer!"
In keeping with my seasonal observance, I have begun thinking again about the blog. I have so many posts to catch up on...
Camp Quixote is flourishing and I've made nary a peep about it. Four hundred locals protested the war on Saturday. There is local buzz about new, hopeful mayoral candidates.
It seems we made it through the moldy drear once more.