Harbingers of Spring

Everybody loves Spring, right? Temperate temperatures, singy songbirds, growing greenery. Life abounds abundantly, evoking hope, newness, and the ‘what might be’ of our existences.

This is my second spring in Nebraska, having just missed it in 2017. I still remember the first golf ball I spotted in the street. Golfers are AWFUL in the spring, so Mary and I get a lot of balls right from the start. The cats and I have spent many lovely hours on the back porch, listening to the bad golfers hit balls into the back yard. Soon, I will be out on the links myself, trying not to hit a ball onto Maple Street on the 9th hole.

I saw my first garage sale sign the other day, and while driving around with Mom, saw a couple more. I commented how folks tend to mess up garage sale signs by making the addresses too small. That’s the most important factor, for crying out loud.

Jagged driving is taking over, as we all attempt to keep our cars from the worst of the road damage. The reckless driving is almost as annoying as the single lanes on Maple Street to accommodate the workers fixing the potholes.

The first daffodils are popping up, and Mary is cleaning the yard in preparation for tomato and basil plants.

Spring always makes me antsy for a trip, and I’ve been following prices on a flight to Rome. I don’t usually go on these trips – they are, literally, flights of fancy – but the airline searches are one expression of my increased desire to be in the sun, to be more active, to do new things.

How does this compare to Omaha before? It’s pretty simple – I’m much more aware of Spring than I was in my youth. It may be because the roads were in better condition when I was 16-18, or that garage sales and golf held no interest for me (save the golf class I took in high school).

But remember, I lived in Minnesota for 20+ years. There, Spring is later and shorter. The glory days of 70 degree weather enjoyed on the porch with the cats were much less prolific than in Omaha. Winter was just enough more harsh to ensure I never really liked living there. I had to be there twice already this year, and I hit the coldest temperatures of the year, and a blizzard. I know Omaha had some of the same, but it wasn’t to the same degree. And my cats are here. So score a couple for my hometeam.

As I write this, I have learned that we may have snow this weekend. I don’t care. I retrieved all my summer clothes from their storage, and swapped them out with the winter sweaters. Once that is done, winter can tease, but it cannot deliver any more misery.

I can’t be more clever than the many poets and writers who have sung the praises of this season, and that’s not the purpose of my blog, anyway. But I can definitely encourage you to look for something literary, as part of your own observance of all this season promises.

Here are couple I like:

“I am going to try to pay attention to the spring. I am going to look around at all the flowers, and look up at the hectic trees. I am going to close my eyes and listen.” Anne Lamott

“It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April

Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.” From Spring by Edna Millay

“Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!” From Spring, the sweet spring by Thomas Nashe

And just a teaser, from my favorite poet, Ted Kooser – an excerpt from Old Dog in March, from Weather Central:

“From a cold stone stoop,

stepping down slowly

into another spring,”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s