Genevieve; Spring Rushes Forth by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Chapter 6

Sunshine; the kind courtesy of Pexels.com under their CC0 license.

Sunshine’s siblings; Tippy, Puff-Puff, Wailer, and Teddy huddled together. Their faces showed that they were curious, but their movements also showed that they were a bit cautious in this, their first “strange” spring day. They outwardly found

“strength” in numbers; while internally they must have best understood this weird new season as substantially the inverse of the autumn they had already experienced. They had no way of yet knowing whether or not it would be pleasant. If they were thinking, they probably thought it would be, as so far everything they had experienced in Poochville was pleasant. In practice their varying levels of curiosity outweighed any possible thought process.

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Cautious kittens; the kind courtesy of Pexels.com under their CC0 license; very modified Their differing placements and assertiveness sound more exaggerated in words than a viewing might have disclosed.

Genevieve, Sunshine, and the rest of the kittens were all within ten feet of each other, their distances diminishing with every nanosecond passed. All were near Genevieve’s house, each seeking and finding ground devoid of snow as their first, but not only priority.

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First spring flowers the kind courtesy of Pexels.com under their CC0 license; modified.

The remnants of the winter’s snow and ice were grudgingly giving way to their temporary earthly host by disappearing into the warmth of an undetectable cavern they seemed to gravitate toward. Like any contented being, the storm engendered visitor was struggling to fend off the death throes it both imperfectly knew and felt to be rudely and “prematurely” asserting itself in the moment. Its ultimate acceptance of the futility of struggle always occurred by the last second. It had to. There were no other verifiable options available. Whether this is the result of choice or successful persuasion is not of any real matter to anyone other than the retailers of the air. It was just the inevitable return of the more direct sun of spring. The boundaries and dates may be porous; but one would have to be dead to not feel, if not also see its effects. Genevieve was once again in the fragrant blush-purple of the earliest of

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verbenas, and the kittens were close behind as she sniffed at the delicate fresh flowers.

Sun behind the trees: the kind courtesy of Pexels.com under their CC0 license; modified.

The sun seemed bright to some and wan to others. It wasn’t any definable trait of the sun. It seemed to rather be the flip-flopping point of view of its vacillating and non-participating observers. The relative shade was supposedly seen and of current interest only to the practitioners of the majority anti-cult called various names, but consistent in their philosophy of cautious denial. Their powers were nothing to trifle with and had enabled them to name the difficult-to-pass mountain sitting between Poochville and Rapidtown as Denial; as well as formulate complicating rules for those willing to tempt the treacherous

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and seemingly low-end-odds assigned by bookie pros to any such naive and destined-to-fail attempt to pass. Those “correct”

correctly saw the snow melting; it not perceived as being in a masking haze by the majority gloom aficionados.

This is to fruitlessly digress as all residents of Pacific Lane; nay all residents of the entirety of Poochville, were any longer so cursed.

Last of the snow; property of the author.

It was at least fifty degrees; and the robins were again there. They announced the return of spring every year with their hopping presence. Pooches around long enough and sufficiently observant to see the repetition of the flying, colorful pattern were certain. Others lacking certainty deferred and studied things like mathematical analysis, calculus, geometry, algebra,

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and even physics. Sometimes a configuration amplified by certain supplements produced interesting pictures vaguely reminiscent of E.T.; its attendant speculations a source of delight for the witty math nerds.

E.T. suggestion; property of the author.

More often the techies were ogling things like whatever this is; presumably something brainy from one of the calculus sub-genres discovered 5,000 years ago; with a current worldwide potential market approximating ten.

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Calculus something, ostensibly with some point; property of the author.

It would border on rudeness to say that seemingly in a display of perverse oddity, the math nerds did not see that their interest in infinities was exactly where this process took them; an infinite study presaging no definitive determination.

One might logically conclude that the ten mathsters wanted it precisely this way; a source of infinite witticisms they could inflict upon each other. This whole process could cause a kitten to want to hide.

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