It's that time of year again...I've been home sick for the past several days, confined to my bed and watching the rainy snow fall outside my window. At first it came as a welcome break, a chance to catch up on rest and have no choice but to take it easy...but after a while, it began to seem as though better health - and better weather - would never come. And so, I very much enjoyed reading White's essays on spring. At this time of year, no matter how long we've lived in Maine, no matter how used to this weather we ought to be, I think we can all use a reminder that if we hold out just a bit longer, the last snow will melt, the sun will come out to stay, and color will once again return to our backyards.

I loved the passage in "Spring" where White (with help from Robert Frost) describes two very different spring days - one where we begin to believe that warmer weather has arrived, only to be sharply reminded of the reality by the chill of clouds and wind ("Everyone who has lived in the country knows that sort of moment - the promise of warmth, the raised hope, the ruthless rebuff."). And the other day, when we finally know that spring is here to stay, the kind of day when we take (or make) any excuse to be outside, when we can't help but notice the warmth of the sun on our faces. ("The day of days when spring at last holds up her face to be kissed, deliberate and unabashed.") Though it's only February, I feel as though we've had several of those first fake-out days, when unusually warm weather gets our hopes up, but then a blizzard of snow and ice shakes us of our daydreams. As much as I enjoy those sneak-peeks at spring, they make it that much more difficult to have to get used to winter all over again.

Another of White's essays that I particularly identified with this time was "Memorandum." Who couldn't relate to that long, long list of to-do's and should-do's, where each item you write down reminds you of a half dozen more? Or to being so overwhelmed by everything that needs to be done, and so easily sidetracked that before you know it, it's the end of the day, and not a single thing has been checked off the list? It's the small details like this, the quirks and imperfections told in White's matter-of-fact way, that make him so easy for me to relate to. I suspect that this is also partly why White's children's books and other fictional stories are so universal - like my fellow bloggers, now that I'm reading these personal essays, I want to revisit White's other works to see what little bits from his real life make it into the experiences and personalities of his characters. Looks like I'll have plenty to keep me busy as I eagerly await the warmer days to come...

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