Yesterday I turned off the heat--you read that right. Mother's Day and it finally warmed up enough to turn off the heat. Sixty degrees brings less of a bite when the wind blows and this hot mama spent the bulk of her weekend outside. Garden beds were cleaned out. The pool got shocked and vacuumed. Screens were hung, windows were washed, laundry dried on the lines. Basketballs got dribbled and shot, boys played in the creek and everyone got muddy. It felt glorious to come inside at the end of the day sweaty and grubby with dirt buried beneath my nails and caked into my heels. The showers of winter merely freshen our stale bodies, but the showers of spring and summer--when the soap bubbles turn brown with the day's exertion--well, those feel like a thing deserved, earned somehow.
We dined like kings--burgers on the grill, homemade potato salad, lemonade and a beer for me. A satisfying weekend--I forgive spring for her late arrival.
Last night I lay in bed, my soul warmed by the sun's rays and all that I'd accomplished. Then I realized part of the heat was radiating from my arms--sunburned and giving me a bona fide farmer's tan. Hot mama indeed.