The Garden to My Flowers

Maybe it's the warmer weather in January that's teasing me. We've barely had any snow yet and I'm already longing for Spring. Don't get me wrong, I love a big, deep snow as much as the next snow bunny. But one of the many wonderful things about Spring is that you start to notice people. Winter is a time when you can barely see a person's eyes behind their droopy sock hat, upturned collar, and their world record for the most neck wraps of a scarf. Sand and dirt become your windshield, so instead of people-watching all you see is death flash before your eyes several times a day. People look extra-large because of the sixteen layers they have on, or the goose feathers that are packed into their coat. Let's be honest, you enjoy watching condensation from your breath more than anything or anyone. But in the Spring, people get that feeling of freedom. They're more conscious about what they wear, and have more options of what they can wear. Of course they wear less clothes, but they also wear a lot of different and bright colors. Winter is drab and dark--people in a cocoon. Spring is beautiful and colorful--busting out of that cocoon. So on a 43 degree New Year's Day this is what I wore. I called the pants "the garden to my flowers". Some liked the pants and not the shirt, some liked the shirt and not the pants, and only I liked both, harmoniously together. (The men's vintage pants are 1970's Kings Road--The Men's Store from Sears, and the men's vintage shirt is 1970's JC Penney Towncraft.) And yes, though it was questioned by several, that is a man's shirt, embroidered flowers over see-through linen and all. Truthfully, I felt like a hippie disco cowboy in the shirt, in a weird, neat kinda way. But the pants and the flowers cried out to me, as I know it did in other ways to other people. But don't laugh at me. Instead, laugh in Winter's face.