When we used to have long harsh winters, the impulse in the first days of spring was to open the windows and doors and let the house breathe some fresh air. I remember when the women of the house would pull the linens off the beds, and the curtains off the windows, and whole neighborhoods of backyard clotheslines were filled with fabric billowing in the breeze. Area rugs were hauled to the back porch for a good whipping, and the debris brought in from winter storms whisked away. These movements disturbed the dust bunnies and cobwebs that had been hiding in the crevices and corners, so a full-fledged spring cleaning would ensue.
I miss that fresh as a daisy way to start the new season. The only remnant of a seasonal transition now takes place in my closet when it’s necessary to changeover from winter to summer clothes. The out of season garments live on a rod that takes a tall stepladder to reach. An easily accessible convenient place of honor is reserved for the present season’s apparel. But in years like this one, when the weather turns warm sooner than usual, and then changes it’s mind and became cold again, the change over happens in dribs and drabs. And I must say, creates a mess along the way.
But today I’ve finally taken the plunge, and switched everything around. And like the spring cleaning of old, the reorganization morphed way beyond its original intention. Getting into the cracks and crevices felt good, giving away and throwing away what is no longer needed or useful.
Remembering the closets I’ve been given the job to clean after a family member died, this chore might be one of the most important ones for getting one’s house in order. Not to mention, it will be most pleasant not to have to climb a stepladder to get dressed tomorrow morning.