Springtime

Part 1:

A few months ago I got the idea that I needed a work desk, a better one. I have a desk in my room, but it’s the one that Dad had at his mini-barn office…and my knees are always hitting the top…and it’s pretty ugly. So I decided I’d make a better one. One that would span the whole length of a wall and have enough surface area for all the papers I need to lay somewhere.

I’m not really much of a woodworker, but my grandpa is. So I knocked some siding off of the old, fallen in barn out beside our driveway and began making trips to grandpa’s house. We planed down three heartpine (probably) boards and glued them together. Then, with much lovingkindness, sanded and varnished and sanded and varnished. This was easily the most fun I’ve ever had working with wood. Grandpa had everything I needed at his shop…so, minus a pack of sandpaper and some mineral spirits, it was totally free. I bought a sweet wooden chair at the Orange Horse, and now I write English 102 essays with a view of the backyard and plenty of legroom. Dream come true.

So a toast to my grandpa, Vernon, for helping me do this.

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Part 2:

I think the changing of the seasons is one of the coolest parts about living in America. We get four, and that’s really more than can be said of much of the world (and Minnesota). I was really anticipating spring this year. Winter is too cold to camp and play softball and fish. It’s April now, and I’ve done all three.

Yes indeed.

If the Lord should tarry, let the springtime come,

Here’s a song I wrote in February, the great month of cold anticipation.

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I’ve got two tests and an essay, and they’re all due tomorrow,

I’ve got few friends to speak of, they’re all out with their girlfriends,

It’s been a long February, and I’m waiting for the springtime,

It’s raining in this parking lot, and old strings on this guitar,

It’s lonely on a Sunday, and five days till the weekend,

and I wonder, 

If things will get better come springtime, better come March

Better come springtime this year,

Maybe the flowers will grow over my fears, maybe showers will wash them away,

Maybe the warm days will thaw out my insides,

And things will get better come springtime this year,

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