i guess spring came early this year. i mean - it took us less than a week after the lastest of the last season holidays to get the christmas tree in the ground. that's always been one of the sacred rituals of connected to "xmas-etc". i would wear my white-rimmed rubber boots (if i could only remember the brand...) - which i hated, and we would go out to our plot of land and i would help my father dig the hole. my duty was to hold the tree upright, which included getting pricked by the pine needles. even though we would have to wait for the snow to melt, the weather would still always be gray. and it was never mid-january.
as time flew by (and boy is it picking up some speed now!) the family dispersed throughout the world (ok, it's the continent, but might as well be the world). the land has been more less abandoned, even though it is a great escape from the city. it was me and a couple of friends, but it still had that air of tranquility, time suspended. but with a layer of decay that has covered it all. the house needs mending, the grass needs tending, and i need to go there and do that. i need it selfishly. i need to go that distance, not necessarily to use that what is achieved. that's this magical connection to the land. mixing soil and sweat, inhaling the grass. this idea is never as clear as when you put the shovel to the ground on a gloomy january day (but in short sleeves, nevertheless).
so, this year i've touched it in january. i've gotten it under my nails, i've smelt its moisture, seen its creepy inhabitants. the next step is self-discipline and going back to the roots. the eternal question that comes with every pledge in january. will i persevere? (perseverance in quitting is not perseverance)
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