The day is a gray one. It seems like color has disappeared. Only the green shoots in the front garden give promise of spring and flowers. In the kitchen, my cactus has a pink flower and some buds. I was disappointed when it didn’t blossom at Christmas, but I guess it was waiting until I needed a bit of hope, a bit of color. Winter is taking its final bow.

When I was in the eighth grade, the nun I had was ancient. She was too old for the oldest class in the building, and we took advantage. She liked me so I got away with a lot. On really nice days, I’d hide my lunch in my jacket and leave with the going home for lunch crowd. I’d sit on a bench at the town hall and enjoy my meal. Sometimes I’d be late getting back, but I’d tell her I was at the church, and she was fine with that. I’d leave early telling her I needed to go to the library. She never stopped me. I wasn’t the only one. Every day one of my classmates purposely spilled milk in the basket and showed it to her. He left to clean it and was gone at least an hour. She barely taught. She made us memorize the Declaration of Independence. She used to sit at her desk and eat candy and even sometimes fall asleep. She told us she would thank God when we left. We felt the same way.

 As a kid, I always thought of spring as sort of a goddess dressed in a white, flowing gown and wearing flowers in her hair. I must have seen a picture somewhere. On the first warm day, I’d shed my winter layers, as many as my mother would allow. The winter coat was the first to go. I loved the walk to school. The early mornings were still a bit chilly, but not cold. When the shoots and flowers appeared in the gardens of the houses along my walk, the crocus were always first. I think they were all purple with a bit of yellow. The dafs came next. They were always yellow. The grass took a bit longer. Spring was official when my mother opened a window to let in the fresh , sweet air.

Spring comes late here. The first signs are always the tops of the green shoots in my front garden. When I am going to the car, I always check their progress, how tall they are. When the temperature is in the 40’s, I start wearing just my flannel shirt when I go out. I admit I am chilly sometimes, but I won’t give in to the last throes of winter.

This entry was posted on March 8, 2025 at 12:19 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.