The Bradford Pear tree in our back yard is at its peak today. Its branches are laden with those snowy bundles of blossoms, swaying gently in the light breeze. The tree was dealt a deathblow this past winter during a windstorm when a large section of it broke off. The tree experts—two different companies—said there was nothing to be done. One offered to take it down for $1,200, the other said just leave it for now. It isn’t close to anything and eventually it will just fall. So, our wallets convinced us to let it die naturally, and I get to see its bounty at least one more year. The daffodils in our front yard are offering up a riot of yellow, and the light green of the early season is dusting our trees and bushes. I have the French doors in our family room open to let the outside in as much as possible, and have been serenaded all day by the birds; especially our resident cardinals.
Spring has always been my favorite season. I feel every bit of its rebirth, as if I too, like the butterflies, am emerging from my cocoon. Basement exercise is now being traded out for park walks several times a week. The grill made its seasonal debut Saturday when we cooked up a tri-tip and moaned with delight at its smoky flavors. I served corn on the cob with it; I realize that is taking optimism a bit too far, but I am just so ready for the abundance of the farmer’s market!
I am welcoming Spring with more fanfare than ever this year. My body has gone through many wonderful changes over these past two and a half years. I have never been stronger or felt better—with one small exception. My 155-pound weight loss has made me chronically cold—unrelentingly cold. I thought it was just because I didn’t have all the padding anymore, but there is an additional reason: when you lose a great deal of weight, your body thinks something bad is happening so it slows down your metabolism significantly. Marc and I had to develop a winter strategy to help me survive it in some relative comfort. I wore layers as I never had before—two sets of long underwear, topped by three or four sweaters. I found it singularly unfair that my slimmer body was encased in enough layers to make me resemble a stuffed sausage!
At night, I wore a flannel nightgown, a fleece robe and heavy socks. We bought flannel sheets and a room heater for our upstairs bedroom. I turned my electric blanket on to high every night and we have a down comforter on top of that. I absolutely realize this is all pretty comical. But, if you are at the start of your wellness journey, perhaps you are now duly warned!
So, to go from the layers of clothes to light outfits that actually reveal some skin—that is, in and of itself, quite the transformation! I will confess that I am still sitting on a heating pad, but I am in front of those open doors, so I am making progress—and I am loving it!