| It creeps up on you, spring does. There you are going about your winter business when all of a sudden you realize that the days are getting longer. Then you realize that it's not the middle of deep, dark January like you had been feeling but the middle of freaking March. And somewhere a light bulb goes off inside your head and you want to shout, "Hallelujah, I've made it through another dark side of the moon."
I think it was when the first cardinal started in early March shouting from the treetops, "Hey, all you red-feathered females, here I am and I'm establishing my territory" that I had my first glimpse of winter's grip lessening. I went about my daily routine, or should I say my daily non-routine, and on my occasional bouts of getting out of the house the land still looked bare and the trees' every branch was naked to the sky. Then I began to see the slightest tip of yellow on the ends of some low bushes as the forsythia felt it was safe to start springing forth. Day by day, a bush here and a bush there hinted at its identity and before I quite knew it there was full blooming yellow everywhere. Along this time pale white and bright yellow daffodil heads were budding out of the ground. Their green leaves teased at us for days and when the forsythia came out in full glory the daffodils couldn't be outdone and had to show their finery too. And then, the dogwood and the crab apple trees and the redbud couldn't hide themselve anymore and they came out. The neighborhood has become dotted with pinks, pale violet red and whites along with the yellows. Then I started looking for buds on the trees. One day there were none and then quite subtly there they were. Little tips of spring green were appearing on the ends of the bushes and fringe trees. I had never noticed this before in my life until I moved here two years ago, where we have our own mini-park in the backyard, that the lower bushes and trees were the first to come alive in the spring and the last to die in the fall. The gradual procession of green from bottom to top of forest was a wonder to behold the first spring we were here. And then in the fall, I lamented every falling leaf but noted that the tallest trees were the first to shed them and the bushes and fringe trees were the last. Nature has such a way with herself. But even before the buds began to bud and the blooms began to bloom the birds revved up their chorus. Where there was barely a peep, now there was a racuous reverberation. The robin has geared up to the cardinal and just at daybreak they get out their megaphones and start telling the world, "I am here and I'm ready to mate!" We'd prefer they keep their lustiness to themselves till a couple of hours later. Not everyone is an early bird like they are.
I would have to say it hits home that spring is truly in the air when we feel the urge to get the ole firepit going. Which is what we had last night. This is the most enjoyable time to have a fire. It's just cool enough to make the fire comfortable and there are no mosquitos out in force yet to bug the heck out of you. The only trouble with spring is that is doesn't last long enough before the heat of summer is upon us. |
And then, one day, it is clothes drying weather. That's a sure sign of spring in my book when I can put out a load of clothes to sway in the breeze. Whether it goes back to seeing my mom hanging up clothes when I was a kid or what, I love to see clothes lazily rippling on a clothesline. The sight gives me a homey and comforted feeling.