I recently finished reading through a pile o’ books for the Romance Writers of America published author awards aka the Ritas. That makes the third contest I’ve judged this year—I also did my local chapter’s contest and the RWA unpublished author contest (aka Golden Heart). I somehow managed to sign up for that last one accidentally but I actually really enjoyed the entries I got, so it was all good. However, it does show you how much of a hazard I can be on-line when I’m not paying attention.

It’s always a strain on my schedule to do the judging—it always falls at the busiest time of year at my job—but it’s one of the ways I can give back to the writing community that has been very good to me. It also forces me to pick up books I wouldn’t otherwise consider, and I’ve found some great authors. It’s against the rules to comment on individual books, but I can say that this year I found one author I’ll be watching for on the shelves.

I’ve encountered literal spring tonics—old fashioned recipes (usually not-so-yummy) involving rhubarb, lemons and herbs. I think their original purpose was to restore a lot of nutrients depleted after a winter without fresh vegetables. Or perhaps some sort of severe retribution. In any event, I’ve added them to my list of “why not to be a pioneer,” along with wool underwear and shovelling the pig sty.

Today, we’re not so much in need of tonics for the body as for the mind. Most of us approach spring with ritual: a new haircut, cleaning closets, washing the car, and cleaning up the garden. Others go on a diet or dust off the bike. For me, it’s washing windows. Bright, clear spring light cheers me up every time. It’s like tidying up old chapters and turning the page. It’s a natural time to dream of growing new projects, letting in fresh air, and doing the world over in bright, happy colours.

This time the season has something extra for me. Those who’ve followed my adventures over the last years will recall dark tales of courses and exams. Tuesday I attended my convocation, finally putting the official seal on a financial management certificate that took me six years to complete. It does feel like springtime after a long, hard winter. It’s a relief to finally tie up that particular project, and make room for something fresh.