At midday I escape: the ticking clock; computer screen; desk and mound of paperwork; for a walk in the fresh outdoors.
Emerging into sunlight and bracing wind, like some subterranean creature; the hairs on my arms stand to attention in salute to unexpected chilliness, and force a hasty, weak kneed retreat, to retrieve a warm sweater.
It is the week for the "bulky and metal" pick up in our township and I observe an interesting collection on the sidewalks, my interest equal to that of a visitor to a museum. Cast off appliances; faded, spring less couches; lopsided office chairs and torn mattresses; and assorted unidentifiable junk.
Until this week they have been tolerated; maybe patched and mended--and used, even though inadequate and dysfunctional and not wanted anymore. Now they are done with;final destination--the dump.
"Just like some of my old habits, of late," I think.
My spring cleaning has opened up space in my life for new things; functional and healthy habits. This time around they are of my choice, rather than inherited secondhand, or gathered by happenstance.
I pass a house with a curving path of pretty crazy paving edged with flowers. I wish I had my camera. And then another similar, this time the path of fixed paving stones is overlaid with dancing dappled shadows, the branches above making a lace overlay upon the crazy quilt of stones below.
The sun warms my bare neck below up swept hair. It is gentle as a benediction and as sensual as a lover's kiss.
Above me, the wind plays on boisterously with his playfellows, the trees; imitating swooshing, crashing, ocean waves.
I arrive back at my office; cobwebs gone; blown away by the fresh and friendly breeze; stepping willingingly back into captivity, envigorated and renewed.