Changeover has happened at the Thrift Shop. You know it as soon as you glance into the shop. Step in, and you can feel your spirits rise. Spring colors are everywhere. One round rack holds only turquoise and chartreuse tops. Pastel colors are everywhere. So is crisp drama—lots of black and white, even in the bed linens.
“This shirt just looks like summer,” I said to a customer buying a blue-and-white-striped shirt.
“I know,” she answered. “That’s why I bought it.”
A mom shopping with a child remarked that they’d been in the shop for our sales before changeover, too, and I asked them if they could see the difference. “Oh, yes,” the mom said. “It’s wonderful.” Her daughter’s eyes got big as she nodded.
A tall, robust man brought his purchases to the checkout counter, absolutely delighted. Not only had he found three shirts that fit him, but one of them was a Hawaiian-style shirt. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for a Hawaiian shirt?” he asked. He was still grinning as he left the shop.
Another customer remarked on how chatty the shop was. “I’ve been here lots of times, and people always talk,” she said, “but it’s never been as chatty as this.” My coworker attributed the chatter to all the spring merchandise, which surprised me. I’d assumed that the extra conversation was due to the number of folks shopping in groups. Which they were no doubt doing because of changeover. In any case, happy noises were the shop’s soundtrack yesterday.
Business was brisk, leading to lines at the counter. Our customers are great, though, and often chat while they wait for their turn. One man used the time to count coins to make sure he could cover his purchase. He looked like he’d been unhoused for some time, and it was going to be a near thing for him to afford what he wanted—a baby item for a new mother who can’t leave the house. An ICE problem, maybe?
The young man who’d been behind him in line moved in front of him.
“I believe this man is next,” I said to the younger customer.
“That’s right,” he responded. “I just want to pay for what he’s buying.” And he did. The older fellow put his coins back away, with thanks, and both men left feeling generous. The people still in line talked about the transaction till the line dissipated. Our customers really are great.
On the home front, we had a visit from Daughter Number Four. She lives not too far from here, but she teaches school and is zealous about protecting her parents from the multitudinous bugs she picks up from the children. If she’s under the weather, she doesn’t visit, and it had been six weeks since we’d seen her. Which turned out to be far and away long enough for an earworm to establish itself in my head.
This is not to suggest D#4 caused the earworm. Winter has been hard, and the tune in my head is the Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun.” The lyric playing in my head is, “It’s been a long, cold, lonely winter . . . It feels like years since it’s been here.” Michiganders are ready for spring, missing the sun, eager for changeover. As George Harrison put it, “Here comes the sun and I say ‘It’s alright.’”
The sun appeared for a while yesterday morning and early afternoon, and it was more than all right. It was fabulous. You could feel warmth in it. My friend Mary said, “I know it’s supposed to get cold again, but it’s wonderful now, and I’m going enjoy the sun while it’s here.” We enjoyed it together as we walked through the woods looking for wood ducks around a vernal pool.
Neither of us has seen any wood ducks yet this spring, although we’ve seen a pair of hooded mergansers and a pair of buffleheads on Thurston Pond. A pair of wood ducks used to nest in a big tree near the vernal pool, and I remember how startling it was the first time I saw one of them, the male in all its glorious color, sitting on a branch.
You come down from there right now, I thought at him. You are a duck, not a perching bird. Come down before you fall down. Mary says he probably thought a retort along the lines of, I can fly and you can’t. You can’t tell me what to do.
We’re ready for exotic ducks and sunshine. It’s been a long, cold, lonely winter. We’re eager for changeover.
26 March 2026
I am beyond tired of the roller coaster temperatures and the amount of sick, and poor tempers, that seem to be along for the ride this year.
I re-read an old New Yorker cartoon yesterday that wondered if it was close enough to spring for good weather to not be an existential crisis. I feel that.