It was a muddy and gloomy evening…

It was a muddy and gloomy evening…

Spring is here!
The 20th has come and gone, and winter is finally over. Between harvesting new spring greens and tending to my indoor seedlings and planning picnics, I’ve just been filled with springtime joy! The fresh scent of jonquils and new leaves is carried on a breeze that is brisk but mellowed with the first warmth of the new season, through my open kitchen window. Outside, baby ducks and rabbits frolic in a bucolic bacchanal of fuzz and fluff and too big eyes.

If you listen very closely, you can almost hear a chorus of baby lambs singing the Hallelujah Chorus.

If you listen very closely, you can almost hear a chorus of baby lambs singing the Hallelujah Chorus.

If you’ve read this blog for more than 5 minutes you know a) that I am in the Midwest and thus b) dripping with sarcasm. The truth is, despite what Martha and Pinterest and the rest of the internet is telling me, the current season is one that isn’t a season at all. It feels like it shouldn’t be winter. The days are longer, there’s a strange and firey ball of light in the sky, Easter candy abounds and yesterday I counted approximately 177 robins in our front yard.┬áIt’s definitely not SPRING- there’s a Winter Weather advisory in effect and while a few unwise blubs have started sending up green stuff through the sea of mud, all the tips have been frost burnt.
When I am feeling cheerful, I call this current state of being ‘The Mudglooms.’

Having spent the better part of the week bitching about our lack of spring like it’s my job, I’ve decided to take this transitory state in stride. Sure, every formerly grassy then snowy area has been replaced with mud- Sure, going for a run requires more layers of spandex than I feel comfortable disclosing- Sure, it seems like everyone (including yours truly) has spent the past 5 months perfecting their snarls- At the same time, though, all these gloomy skies and biting winds put one in the perfect mood for tea and rumination but without the utter despair that comes from the deep heart of winter. Having the nearness of spring so close to the current desolation seems almost supernatural. I’ll say this for the Mudglooms- they’re a great time for reading books about villages on moors. And looking at art like this:

Figure 2 by Agnes Martin

THE KITCHEN V Carrying the Milk by Marina Abramovic

Exploded View Birds by Jim Campbell.
Click HERE or HERE to see this piece in action. Awesome.

The Argument With Spring by Jessica Tremp

a drawing by Eva Hesse

Heart Branches by Anne Siems

from Bloom by Anna Schuleit

Robert Montgomery

Robert Mongomery is right- Winter can’t last forever. Let us savor this liminal state- Three cheers for sunglasses+beanies! A round of hurrahs for the extension of hot cocoa season!



from Rineke Dijkstra’s ‘Beach Portrait’ series

Shades, Venice Beach by Ian Baguskas

Can You Imagine by Trey Speegle

Sea of Desire, by Ed Ruscha

Dancing Sea by Ceren Kilic


I am usually one of the first (and sometimes only) people to welcome Midwest Winters with open arms. I spend most of November/December waxing poetic about Big Sweaters! Hot cocoa! Grey Rainy Days! and twirling in slow-mo pretending to be Winona Rider.

But come mid-January I realize that we are barely through the thick of it and tomatoes are half a year away I am cold.
Luckily this is just about when my parents, who are masters of planning and foresight, Boyfriend and I take our annual vacation. A week of reading until my eyes fall out, sleeping whenever the hell I feel like it and soaking in sun and salt and warmth until I feel as full and re-hydrated as a raisin in a good Biryani is usually just what I need to see me through to March (or, because it’s Ohio, occasionally June.) This year proved to be no exception, hence, why I disappeared for a few weeks- One week to panic because OMG IT’S BARELY JANUARY AND I CAN’T FEEL MY HANDS, and one week of recovering someplace sunny and green.
And now I’m back! And yeah, it’s still Winter, but at least I’ve had visual evidence the sun does still exist- I’m not living in some nightmarish, apocalyptic world with Cillian Murphy as my only hope. Maybe now I can crawl out from under this pile of cats and blankets and start Making More Things because, as I’ve learned this year, Winter is no time to hibernate.