The last snowy gasp of winter turned the landscape white – again. It was the first week in April and despite the snow, some primitive gong went off in my head. The next thing I knew I was scrubbing and digging, caught in the early throes of my annual spring house-cleaning ritual.

Oh, I can hear you groaning now – and rolling your eyes impatiently. Spring-cleaning!? No one does THAT anymore – except for Martha Stewart. And me. And what’s more – dare I confess it? – I enjoy it.

So there I was on this stormy day, in my kitchen. The light was just the right intensity, just the right slant, even without sunshine, to illuminate the smeary places on the window where all winter the cat had pressed her nose as she glowered at the chickadees so tantalizingly close on the other side of the glass. And there was the gray mantle of dust, like a bloom of mold on a piece of old fruit, on top of the refrigerator. It was time. Just like that, no planning, no angst, no running off to Wal-Mart to buy supplies, just, yup, it’s time.

My rule used to be to clean one room a day, but now I’m older, a lot less compulsive, quite a bit gimpier and my nest is echoingly empty. I spring-clean when the mood strikes me and stop when I get sick of it.

The first thing I did was look around to see what needed to be done – well, that north window, for starters. Then, armed with a can of Endust and a dust cloth that had once been the sleeve of an old flannel nightgown, I tackled the cookbook shelf. Of course I got a little sidetracked because the cookbooks kept falling, open, on the floor and I’d end up reading a recipe I’d never tried that looked REALLY good.

I cleaned the kitchen drawers – found that silver cake server I’d misplaced. Realized it needed polishing, so I did that. Which made the other pieces of silverware look pretty bad, and I polished them, too. All the tins and bibelots – way too many of those – got a bath in a pan of warm, soapy water. In case you didn’t know, half the fun of spring-cleaning is playing in the water.

The other part of the fun is what my mother, Ruth Hamlin, always refers to as “hoeing out.” This involves rooting about in the recesses of closets, cupboards and steamer trunks ferreting out unwanted cultch, including clothing, small appliances, old books and outdated magazines. Later, when the weather cleared, I took those things to the exchange shed at the Hampden Transfer Station. That’s always my favorite part of hoeing out – going to the dump.

Phase two of my spring-cleaning will come with the first warm late-May day when I can throw open the windows and let the sweet air in. That day I will take down all the curtains – mine are made of simple white cotton, no frills – and wash them. I will hang them outdoors on the clothesline and hum a song as I do so. I will wash blankets and hang them outside to dry, too. I will scrub the bathroom, mop the floors, and wipe down the woodwork. Then I’ll mosey out to my hammock and lie there, swinging, inhaling the scent of lilacs, feeling that sense of sweet satisfaction that always comes after a job well dreaded has been neatly done.

Snippets

Isabel Morse Maresh restores used dolls to their former glory. She would like to donate the dolls to an organization that would send them to needy children in other countries. E-mail her at mareshme@acadia.net.

Sara Martin, educator-programs coordinator for the Bangor Museum and Center for History, is looking for someone who knows how to crochet Irish lace, someone who could teach the craft in conjunction with the museum’s forthcoming exhibit, “From Away” which opens June 7. Call her at 942-5766.

The Fabric Garden on Route 201 in Madison is celebrating its 25th anniversary with an open house May 17. To learn more, call 474-9628.

Ardeana Hamlin can be reached at 990-8153, or e-mail ahamlin@bangordailynews.net.