In spring, a young man’s fancy may turn to love, but mine turns to thawing dog poop.
I live in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, home of the -45 winter days (plus -15 wind chills), and even in the cold weather, our furry ones need to be walked. Once spring comes, and the snow starts to melt, all that frozen poop from the parks start to thaw. I love my boys, but those first few weeks, the slush, mud, and stinkiness is overwhelming. They, on the other hand, love the smells.
And it always makes me wonder about the difference between the human and canine nose. What is it they smell in the earth and moss that I don’t? Could thawing coyote feces be the equivalent of a fine wine or hold all the intoxicating aromas of a finely stewed gumbo?
I don’t know, but it catches my imagination, and their excitement is hard to resist. Spring is exciting—from the first blade of grass poking through the dirt or the red tulips vying for sun amidst the melting snow, it’s hard not to get drunk on the warming sun, the sweet aroma carried on the wind. And that blue sky. If it wasn’t for all the work waiting for me at home, I’d be happy to just walk in the River Valley with the guys, waiting for the leaves to bloom and drowning in the bright blue heavens.
I guess, in retrospect, in spring my fancy does turn to love. Spring love. The joy of the first time I get to wear open-toed shoes, or pulling out my flirty dresses from the closet and setting aside the winter coats for next year. And if I was truly honest, I suppose I’d admit to being just as excited as the boys at the smell of thawing doggy poop because it says that spring’s in the air and summer’s not far behind.
When I was little, there was only one thing I wanted to be: a superhero. But there came a day when my dreams were broken, and that was the day I realized that being a klutz was not, in fact, a super power, and my super weakness for anything bright and shiny meant a magpie with self-control could easily defeat me in a battle of wills. I turned to writing as a way to sharpen my mental super-hero skills. I don’t get to orbit the earth in a space station (and thank God, because I get sick on merry go round), but I do get to say things like: “Stand aside! This is a job for Writing Girl