Yesterday was the day. It finally came. After months of waiting for it, it arrived.
It’s not always the same day every spring, it can vary by several weeks. And there is no warning until that day gets here and you just know it. It’s an intuition thing.
You get up in the morning and you just know.
And it has to be done. It can not be ignored by me.
For me it’s a joyful chore. It gives me a bit of the scent of outdoors inside. It can be cozy and soft, or it can be crisp and snappy, depending on the weather of that day.
Now, its not something everyone does, and I respect your choices.
What is this rite you ask?
Why it’s the changing of the fall/winter sheets to the spring/summer sheets on the bed.
I go from it’s 60 degrees in the house and I’m freezing, so I must have a flannel base layer, my husband’s long sleeve shirt, wool socks, a big dog, and 42 blanket layers to…….
BOOM!
Its 50 degrees in the house and I’m boiling hot with a flannel base layer, my husband’s long sleeve shirt, wool socks, a big dog, and 42 blanket layers.
I try to sneak one or more legs out to cool off, making sure that my foot does not hang off the edge. I refuse to give the boogieman that lives under my bed a chance to grab that foot.
And for clarification, I do only have 2 legs.
Yesterday, the day arrived. I knew it was the day because I was smoking hot, and I don’t mean smoking hot mom bod wise, but more swamp witch menopause wise. That is an ugly thing to see, let alone, be! Also, my flannel bottom layer had given its life for my comfort, and I put my foot thru a worn spot in the bottom sheet. Don’t you hate it when that happens? They get all nice and soft and cozy, and then your foot does the boogaloo thru it as you roll over. And its not like I have toe talons either, it just goes bye bye.
I think those were both good clues and much to obvious to ignore.
So the flannel base layers, the dog, and the 42 layers of blankets came off the bed.
Ok Ok, its only 5 blanket layers.
And the cotton sheets came out of the closet. Everything got washed, and hung outside to dry. Since it was windy out, everything got tossed around a bit and it made the sheets on the softer side. Although I do like the crisp ones more. Call me strange. I love crisp crunchy towels too.
I slept much cooler last night, even took the wool socks off, but the dog did reclaim his spot. The boogieman was not giving a chance for foot grabbing as they were both tucked safely away under the cotton sheets. I have not given my husband’s long sleeve shirt up for the year.
Oh, and because I’m frugal, the sheet with the foot hole was washed and put into my weaving studio. Some day it, and all the other foot hole sheets, will be cut into strips and woven into something else useful, like a rug. The top sheet went back into the linen closet, it will make a good chair or couch cover to guard against dog hair getting all over stuff.
Ah the spring rite, and my hope it stays warm and that we don’t get more snow!
Blessed Be!
I remember the ritual well - especially when I lived in Ohio. The day when I could put away the dreary, heavy winter clothes and put on my spring things. There was a feeling of lightness attached to it - for some reason. Now, that I live in California, the event is not as dramatic, but there is definitely a shifting from long sleeves to short.
I think it might be the eventual giving up and setting up the swamp cooler for the summer. In the fall, it’s when we finally cave in and turn the furnace on. Lol.