The red spawn has me crazed. I run out onto the deck and chase it every time I see it at the feeder. Yesterday I threw a plastic bottle at it from the upstairs window. It ran off as fast as its little feet could move. I’m now thinking a Have-a-Heart trap and relocating the spawn miles away from here but near woods and trees with pinecones. A change of scenery might be just what the spawn needs. I’ll think of it as his summer digs.

Last night was winter cold, in the 20’s. Today is still cold and windy. The sun is intermittent.

When we have a really nice, spring-like day as we did a few days ago, I get hopeful and sit on the deck in the sun. I breathe in air redolent of spring and its first flowers. Off in the distance are the sounds of mowers and grass blowers clearing and cleaning yards, a spring ritual. I am then even more certain winter has taken its final bow but then comes a morning like yesterday’s. A coating of snow-covered the garden and the grass and made walking slippery. The snow had that crunchy frozen sound, and it didn’t melt until later in the day when it got warmer. I love that snow this time of year always has me thinking about my dad. He called it poor man’s fertilizer and now all of us do.

I don’t remember when I started noticing the way the seasons change. I know when I was a kid each season had an identity. Summer was months of no school. It was staying up late, sleeping outside in the backyard and being gone all day on my bike exploring places like the railroad tracks, the farm and the zoo. Fall was school and colored leaves to be preserved in ironed wax paper. It was Halloween and Thanksgiving. Winter was Christmas. It was snow days and sledding down the hill and ice skating at the swamp. Spring of all the seasons has the palest identity. It was shedding the winter layers of clothes, riding my bike to school and it was Easter and the Easter basket, always the best part of the day. I knew they’d be a rabbit with ears prime for eating, a coloring book and crayons and a few more small toys. The grass hid the jelly beans and hard colored candy eggs with white in the middle. I still don’t know if they have a name. New clothes were part of the day but didn’t bring me near as much excitement as that basket.

Now I see the seasons by the changes, not the events. Spring is my favorite season when the world slowly wakes up from winter. I am so excited when I see the first green tips of the flowers in the garden: the crocus, the dafs and the hyacinths. Every day brings more and more flowers to life, and I check the garden every morning so as not to miss a single flower.

Spring comes slowly, and I am still learning to be patient.