There’s a house in our neighborhood that has a gorgeous display of spring beauties: daffodils, hyacinths, and tulips of every color. When I’m out walking, I just love going by this yard. As I stroll back to my house, I try to imagine a lavish flower bed bursting with color and fragrance outside my front door. In my reverie, there is a lady walking by, envious of my display of spring beauties. …
But when September and October roll around, I’m not thinking about planting tulips. By then, I’m wishing I had planted a pumpkin patch. I’m dreaming of cattails and Indian corn and gourds: things I should have planted in the spring.
But when spring rolls around, I’m not thinking about pumpkins….
So the vicious cycle continues. I can’t buy sweaters in May and tank tops in October. I just can’t do it. I know it’s the wise and frugal way to go and I am part Scottish, so that truly appeals to me. If it’s right, then why does it feel so wrong? Christmas in July? My mind refuses to go there. But on December 15th, I’m enticed to start crafting intricate holiday decorations and gifts. Time runs out, of course. As the 4th of July fireworks fill the sky, the last thing I want to think about is the quilt I’ll be piecing as snow fills the driveway in January.
I’m not exactly a “live for the moment” type, either. I plan out my menus every week, have a schedule for paying bills, and never miss appointments; I have a retirement plan and even know what songs I want sung at my funeral. How’s that for planning ahead?
But it never fails. Every spring I knock myself on the head and say, “Darn! Too late for tulips again this year.”