Every day there is another sign of spring - daffodils in yards today and the terrible temptations of beautiful flats of blooming flowers at Lowes. Flowers and yarn both have me astonished these days at the glory and variety of color in the world. Flower wise, I want everything this spring, - especially pansies. But I was good. Bob and I just bought a bag each of pebbles and cheap topsoil for his container garden tomatoes, for which we have high hopes. It's still to soon to plant in the ground, but we are readying the plot, mostly Bob. It feels grounding (pun intended but true at a deep level) to have him strong enough and present to put Roots in earth. Every day there is more greenish cast to grasses everywhere, and the redbuds across the street are moving from promise through hint to glory - still not full flower. Most trees still stand stark and bare, but a few show palest hint of almost green light around their branches.
I still love taking Zumba class with KK, find myself excited by the international rythms and pleased that I haven't utterly forgotten how to learn choreography, but today I was probably the oldest woman in the class by at least a decade and, watching bodies in the mirrors I had mixed feelings. I felt unattractive and heavy in comparison to the younger dancers, slow on my feet, but then I began to notice that I still know how to hold my hands, keep my arms strong (which has them hurting today).I felt the same joy in spins that I felt at 3, 13, 23, 53. And instead of feeling disgusted with my body I started to feel thankful to it to still be working and dancing after sixty seasons. It's fine it looks a little worn. We've had some great numbers, this body and I.