It is now spring here in Winnipeg. Skeins of geese wend their way northward across the sky in ever increasing numbers, honking sporadically as they survey the massive remnants of snow that still cover most areas. The river is on the rise, as is the temperature, with the impending flood causing scurries of preparation work with dyke building and sandbagging of low lying properties in the city. Outside the city, meltwater already floods the fields, quietly awaiting the swell of the rising Red.
The change of seasons is well underway. Trees sport fattening buds. Tulips poke through the warming soil, only to have their leaf points nibbled off by hungry cottontails. Amorous birds abound, flitting through the trees, beaks stuffed with nesting materials.
My own nesting will begin on Saturday. I get the keys for the new place at 11:00 a.m. and plan to start moving things in bits and pieces right away, with the movers handling the big stuff on the 13th. I will be glad for the change of focus, as time has been dragging for me. Feeling like a wounded duck has not been the most pleasant scenario for me. I've always soldiered through injuries and tough times. This shoulder thing has sidelined me more than I care to admit, adding a feeling of vulnerability that is rather uncomfortable. Having something to keep me busy will be a welcome distraction as I fit my physio exercises into days of moving and unpacking.
A distinct shift also comes as one breaks the news today of a new job in another city, life to take a course away from me, tangents of contact thinning and breaking. Breaking too, is my heart. It is most definitely a time of change...