It was the first Saturday of spring, and it couldn't have come soon enough. It is rare that the calendar agrees with the weather, and, indeed, that Saturday is the only first day of spring that I can remember where such a match occurred. I was ready for spring, as I always am by winter's ebb.
My lifelong friend Jake was joining me for an afternoon picnic at the farm. I had the picnic basket, which contained all of the gear that would be required. I also had a bottle of wine, which I picked out especially because of the spring theme of the label, which was mostly green leaves and unopened flower buds. Jake was bringing the food, and maybe beer for himself.
We go way back. We fooled around a bit in high school, but neither of us had the confidence to close the deal. Oddly, the fooling around made us more platonic and deepened our friendship. Even well into our thirties, we still have meaningful conversations, mostly by telephone, and tend to not have much in terms of boundaries for our communications. We have grown apart from time to time, usually when one of us has a relationship that is in the all-consuming phase, but we always manage to reconnect when we come up for air.
So, on the first day of spring, my phone rang as I was just finishing up my morning yoga. Eighty-nine straight days of New Year's resolution success. The first such successful resolution of my life. I uncoiled from cowface pose and retrieved my phone to see Jake's unsmiling photo looking up at me from the screen. While he wasn't smiling, the photo was still quite funny and always made me smile. He had a man bun and was looking entirely too serious about himself. It was a phase he went through in his mid-twenties. To this day, I haven't let him live it down.
"Hey Jake, we still on for the farm?" I asked.
"Why hello, Jessie. Absolutely, we are. I can tell you are looking forward to a little bit of spring time" he replied. Sometimes, if I really have something on my mind, I can get a bit of tunnel vision and forget about social pleasantries, but those times are rare. The first day of spring is one of those times, however.
"Jake, you know it's the first day of spring. I've been looking forward to this day for the last six months. Don't harass me too much for it" I replied.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Did you celebrate day eighty-nine this morning?"
"Yup. Eighty-nine straight days of success. I am knocking em down, man. How is your streak going?"
"That is great Jessie. What was the newest pose that you succeeded at?"
"Oh, thank you so much for asking. It makes me feel good to talk about my little victories! Today's victory, aside from my eighty-ninth straight day of yoga, was that I pulled off
the feathered peacock
." That morning, when I had done that pose for the first time, which is an inverted stand using the wall to balance yourself on your forearms and elbows, it had been a significant challenge for me. I had missed the wall with my feet on the first attempt and may have collapsed on my face on the second. Still, the third try was the charm, and by the end of the pose, I was focusing on my breathing and less on my balance.
"That is great news, Jessie. I am really impressed with your self-discipline. It's really good that you have something that is challenging you mentally and physically every day. Anyway, I called to say that I was going to be out at the farm a few hours early. I know that you are excited to get your spring on, so I figured I would extend you an earlier invitation."
"Jake, you rock! I will be on the road within the hour, so I should make it there by around 11. How were you able to get out of work this morning? I thought that your job had you work most Saturdays?"
"Ha! I didn't. I stayed until I was finished last night, or this morning rather. I am actually driving straight to the farm from work and should be there pretty soon. I plan on doing some yard work when I get there, but might wind up taking a nap in the hammock. You know how that hammock is. She is a bloody siren."
"Super! Did you remember to pick up some food? You know I get cranky when I am unfed. And no one likes me when I am cranky." It is true. If I go about 4 hours without food I become a real bitch. I turn into this person that can see every little flaw and problem with everything, who is also incredibly vocal about those observations. No one likes that shit in their life.
"Yeah... So, momma didn't raise no dummies. I keep a Jessie emergency kit in my car. It has a slingshot included, so I can provide you with debitchification treats from a safe range! I have survived too many encounters with bitchy Jessie to want another. I never know when one of those encounters will be my last!"
"Yeah, if you were so trainable, you would have learned after the first time. Prevention is the cure, my friend."
"Hey, exactly when was it that I became responsible for your care and feeding?"
"My care and feeding is in everyone's best interest. Consider it defense of the collective. You, sir, are an American hero. Merica! Besides, you are a foodie who likes to feed people. I am people who likes to eat, so it is a symbiotic relationship."
"Okay, okay. I will try not to let Merica down. Man, talk about the carrot and stick approach."
"Alrighty, I have to get my bootie in gear, so I can embrace the spring. See you soon, my friend."
"Yep. See you soon."
I hung up the phone and headed for the shower. The shower was somewhat pointless, as I was just going to be romping around the farm all day, but I didn't want to drive over an hour while sweaty or sticky. I slipped out of my yoga clothes, which to this day, I am convinced were among my best investments, and into the shower. The yoga gear separated me from more of my hard-earned money than I liked, but it wound up being worth its weight in gold. I had three pairs of everything and had placed garment pieces strategically within my domicile. A sports bra went on top of the snooze button on my alarm clock, forcing me to grab my yoga gear when I was at my most susceptible mental state for avoiding yoga. My tight little yoga shorts were wrapped around the handle to my refrigerator, forcing me to think about how my ass would instantly grow if I wasn't disciplined while I was in the fridge. I kept the TV remote wrapped in a pair of workout underwear. It was a good thing I didn't have visitors!
The hot water was a luxury that I didn't force moderation upon. I decided to doff my winter coat, annihilating a fresh razor in the process. Sasquatches were a winter animal and it was spring. It wasn't the season of the squatch.
Out of the shower, a couple of swipes of antiperspirant and a thick coating of age fighting spackle later, and it was time to dress. I remember pulling open my underwear drawer and grabbing a wad of color. They were a floral set of yoga shorts and a sports bra, so not of ideal cut to pass for underwear, but they screamed springtime, so they were the big winners who got to go to the farm with me. Next was a summer dress, which was floral as well, but was a little on the hippie side. I knew Jake would give me a little shit about it, but it was comfortable and it spoke the magical spring language to me.
Moments later I was in my car, overnight bag and picnic basket in the trunk, heading East to the farm. Traffic was light, so I was more careful about my speed than I wanted to be. I wanted to put the top down, but my car told me that the temperature was 65, which was not top down, seventy miles per hour, weather. I certainly didn't want to get a chill before I got to the farm. My spring time playlist blared the music I had picked out over the past few months. Happy, outdoor music. The miles flew by unnoticed.
What seemed like minutes later, I exited I-40, taking highway 96 for a few more miles until I turned off on the county road to the farm. The farm was the nickname that Jake had plied to a piece of family land that he inherited when his uncle died about fifteen years ago. Jake had been the only one of his family to like the uncle or enjoy the outdoors, so his uncle's offering went smoothly uncontested. The farm was only fifty acres, of which only the center ten wasn't woods. That first summer, we planted Eastern Rosebuds around the entire ten acres. I hadn't seen them bloom yet.
