While on retreat I found myself surrounded by visible reminders of Spring. The trees were still bare, it was cold and windy, especially off the lake, and leaves were autumnally thick on the ground, but on entering The Rosary Walk the grove presented me with this majestic herald of the upcoming season.
On my return home the sheen and lustre of my pretty home was covered with a gauzy pall.
Spring cleaning fever beset me.
That and the request from someone to look over the house the next afternoon.
I knew the unseen beauty was hidden beneath the winter blahs, but did a stranger?
Early the following morning hubs and I struck out and dusted, cleaned bathrooms and vacuumed.
Without the help of four additional pairs of willing hands the task took a ridiculously long two hours most of which I spent searching for the cleaning tools I kept putting down and forgetting where.
As soon as my back was turned the Pledge, or Windex, the cloth, sponge or Scrubbing Bubbles, moved. Why else would I find them in such strange places where I had not set them?! On the top shelf of the library stack, tucked behind the commode on the bathroom floor, beneath a pillow on the bed or in the waste paper bin?
That afternoon the wind persisted giving away the nooks and crannies open to the elments with its moanings.
Rain fell lightly, its patter on the morning room roof lending the glassed in haven the ambience of a trailer home.
There was nothing for it but to turn on the heat and some music and leave our marketable residence to the mercy of the Texas weather.
And perhaps the discerning eye of a prospective buyer.