Waldorf Apple Salad for the In Between Time of Year

It’s February 2 at about 6:30 pm. When I leave work the moon is already above the horizon – doing its best to light the dark sky after the sun runs away. Except for being the moon it isn’t remarkable being in a phase when you might wish for it to be more or less so that you could marvel at its fullness or smile at its fine-tipped crescent.

It’s February 16 at about 8:15 pm. Looking outside into the night sky I might see the twins of Gemini or, if it were dark enough, faint Aries – my birth sign. The popular Big Dipper is disappearing out of sight behind the western horizon. I quickly find the three stars in Orion’s belt — the only constellation I can consistently spot.

It’s February 18 at about 6:30 pm. Leaving work I look around and up into the sky to observe and see leftover light ringing the horizon – the artificial horizon created by buildings and bridges. Despite it being February and despite the sleet and snow that fell less than two weeks ago, the still setting sun tells me that the days are getting longer.

This past week the in between time of year started. This couldn’t be gleaned from a calendar, thermometer or foliage. Those are fickle and deceitful story tellers. Instead it was our crooked planet’s constant rotation that kindly announced our spot in the orbit. It’s the best time of the year — whether spring or fall. The time of year when it is permissible for the weather to impulsively change from cold to warm. No longer the winter that wouldn’t stay. Not yet summer that won’t go away.

I’m going to blame this appearance of spring for my never shrinking to-do list. Each day, despite, my pledge not a single thing gets crossed off. “Tomorrow,” I say everyday. I think it is also to blame for my sleeplessness. It’s not that I stay awake worrying about the things I haven’t done instead it’s that I stay awake imagining the things I could be doing.

So today, still awake at 12:35 am, I say today I will. Today.

Although, a  bike ride sounds lovely. Perhaps a hike. Fresh baking bread would smell so good in my apartment. Wouldn’t that all be nice?

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