Springing toward adventure on a winter's day

What a weekend! I didn't get any housework done. The laundry is still threatening to overtake the den, and the dishes sat in the dishwasher until a new load was ready to clean.

I don't care.

I spent Saturday hiking a grassy hill and sitting in a camp chair, letting the sun soak in. I know this isn't the "real" spring -- there are probably more frosts and snows and cold, gray days ahead, but I'll take what I can get, especially after the miserable January we just had.

My husband and I have a favorite spot we like to go to when the weather is nice. Out by Normandy, it's wide open field -- perfect for kite flying because there are no power lines overhead. We can walk down to the lake, where we've seen peregrines, herons and even a bald eagle, or we can stay on the hilltop and listen to the deer moving in the brush behind us. Spring, summer, fall and winter, we try to make trips out here as often as possible and I've seen my little corner of Eden in all its seasonal glory.

Right now it's sleepy time -- not even the tiniest of spring beauties or dog tooth violets have dared to make an appearance. My three vultures, George, Dick and Connie, have migrated elsewhere and the only indication that spring will ever come is in the heavy buds on the old pear tree.

This is a good time for reflection, a wait and see time while the world and everything in it (at least everything north of the equator) takes a deep breath and prepares for the resurgence of life. Mardi Gras is right around the corner, the party to end all parties, and I think it's funny that people forget the reason for it. For me, anyway, it's a kind of "Get the restlessness and craziness out of your system in one big blowout, then spend the next six weeks wondering if it was worth it."

People love Mardi Gras, but they conveniently forget Lent, that time of reflection before Easter where we give up something. I can't tell you how many times I've heard someone say, "I'm giving up chocolate for Lent" or "I'm giving up cursing for Lent."

I believe we should give things up during Lent, not just for Lent. I think the things we give up are not supposed to be sacrifices of something we hold dear, a kind of spiritual self-mortification, that we grab up again as soon as the sun breaks cover Easter morning. I think they should be things we need to give up forever -- Lent is just a good, reflective time in which to do it.

I have no intention of giving up chocolate for Lent because I have no intention of giving up chocolate. It makes me happy and it's lot a cheaper -- and more legal -- than marijuana. I also have no intention of giving up cursing, though I do try to substitute "sugar" and "rats" for more colorful language. With my high blood pressure, the last thing I need to do is hold things in ...

I don't give up alcohol for Lent because the sum total of my yearly intake equals about one bottle of Reunite, and I don't give up sleeping in on Sundays because I believe in that day of mental and emotional rest -- no matter how big and scary the laundry blob is growing.

But I do plan to give up cigarettes. On our hike into the woods and to our field -- only about a mile, all told -- I found myself huffing and puffing and wheezing like an old steam engine. At 45 (almost 46) -- I'm simply too young to sound like Bob Dylan after running a marathon.

On my way to work this morning, I saw one brave daffodil, a golden spot in a drab, brown landscape. Spring is coming, new life and new adventures, I intend to see them all.

Mary Reeves is a Times-Gazette staff writer. She can be reached at mreeves@t-g.com. This column is published each Wednesday.