Posted tagged ‘springtime’

“The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size.”

February 23, 2015

Tonight’s projected temperature is -2˚. I have nothing to say. Complaints don’t help and neither do prayers. Loud sighs are just  an audible angst caused by this winter.

If I could be anywhere, I would choose somewhere warm but not too warm, not sweaty warm. A breeze would be pleasant. I don’t need an ocean. I mostly need color. I want beautiful flowers in window boxes and along the sides of walkways. I want to be stopped in my tracks by the luscious gardens. I want people wearing clothes made from bright cloths with colorful designs. I want to eat outside at a table under a tree. I want just picked fresh fruit. Music would be nice. A single guitar player would be enough. I’d sit and linger over my meal. Finally, I’d be ready to move on. I’d applaud and tip the guitar player, pay my bill then take a leisurely walk. I’d smile a lot. That would be a best day.

I don’t want to live in Florida to escape winter. As ugly as this one has been, it is still just winter, worst than most, but it will end and spring will follow. I always greet the first sunrise of spring, my welcome to the hopeful season.

I love spring mornings when the birds sing to embrace the new day and the air has a freshness redolent with the sweet smell of flowers. I check my front garden every morning so I know when a flower has bloomed or a new shoot has appeared. I drink my coffee and read the papers on the back deck. I watch the birds at the feeders. Spring has a newness every year. I marvel at every flower.

I know this the dead of winter. but I also know spring is coming. I just have to be patient.

“Every spring is the only spring — a perpetual astonishment.”

March 21, 2014

Some days just dawn. They aren’t pretty or warm or filled with blue skies. They’re just another day. Sometimes I have stuff to do, and Gracie and I head out into the world. Other days I have nothing to do so I read or catch up on the programs I DVR’d or I clean a little. Today I swept the kitchen floor and washed the counter while the coffee brewed. I felt accomplished.

Gracie doesn’t seem herself this morning and even turned down her favorite treat. Right now she is sleeping soundly so I hope she’ll be fine. This happens every now and then, but I still worry.

It isn’t much warmer, the grass is still dull and there are only a few flowers, but I see the world differently than I did simply because it’s spring. When I get the papers, I can smell the freshness of the air, and the morning chill feels temporary. The green fronds of the daffodils and the hyacinths now have buds. The garden is coming alive. The sun’s brightness gives hope of warmth and of me sitting on the deck with my face to the sun. I have stopped complaining about the weather.

Yesterday I watched the Red Sox lose to the Yankees. It may be the Grapefruit League and some players we’ll not see this season took the field, but it didn’t matter. It was baseball. The outfield was a lush green. People were sitting on blankets and chairs watching the game from outside the fence. They all wore short-sleeves and hats to keep their eyes shaded from the sun. They are a harbinger of what will come.

Enjoy the sun and the blue sky, the songs of birds and the color returning to the earth.

“Springtime is the land awakening. The March winds are the morning yawn.”

March 20, 2014

Last night it rained. This morning was cloudy and a bit damp, but we went to the beach anyway. Our festivities took place in the car. We sang our traditional songs, quoted authors on spring, and then when it was sunrise by our watches, we went outside the car and took pictures. The sun wasn’t visible behind the clouds, and the wind was cold, but we didn’t care. After the pictures, we went out to breakfast, our final tradition for the welcoming ceremony. Happy first day of spring!

Today will be warm, or at least warmer than it has been. It is a gift from mercurial Mother Nature because next week winter will back with weather in the 30’s.

An article on the sports pages this morning mentioned the permafrost on some baseball fields and the difficulty of getting them ready for their opening days. In Chicago, a sort of giant hair dryer is being used under a tarp to thaw the ground while crews chip away at the ice in right field. Baseball should be played on a warm sunny day with soft grass underfoot, not thermafrost.

I wish there was a way to make sarcasm ooze from the written word. Yesterday I had quite the chat with a Comcast representative about a problem with my cable TV. I had also had the same chat the day before, but that first problem seemed to solve itself, but when it reappeared yesterday, I foolishly called the chat line again. Both Comcast chatters were condescending and their platitudes  nauseating. I felt like a puppy or a little kid being potty trained with their good job, well done comments. I even told the second guy to stop the platitudes now. He also said a couple of times he could feel my frustration. I would rather he had felt my fist. He gave me an appointment between 8 and 9 am for yesterday. The only problem was it was already noontime. I asked him if he was going to charge me for missing that appointment. He didn’t get it so I explained we were long passed that time then I told him I understood his frustration. He didn’t get that either. The Comcast guy is here right now trying to fix the signal. I have hopes. He seems capable.

Yesterday I saw a male goldfinch with bright yellow feathers. His dull winter look has disappeared. Spring is arriving in dribs and drabs, and I couldn’t be happier.

“The Earth Laughs in Flowers.”

March 19, 2012

It is just after 11, and the temperature is already 64°. Gracie is in the yard, and I’ve been outside standing on the deck taking in the morning and watching her enjoy the sun. She has a grassy spot where she lies asleep on her side spread out to the warmth. Fern is lying in the sun from the front door. I can almost hear Curly singing Oh What a Beautiful Morning.

My yard is filled with flowers from the bulbs I planted last fall. Usually the spawns of Satan dig them up but not last year. Every morning I can’t help but stand a while just to look at them. I long for color after the bareness of winter so the bright yellows and deep purples draw me to the garden. Even the white crocus are filled with a richness of color. Some flowers have yet to bloom, and I wait patiently wondering what other surprises the garden will give.

When I was a little kid, spring meant putting away the heavy coat, the mittens, the hat and the boots. I don’t think I ever noticed flowers growing. I noticed the mud and I heard the birds every morning on my way to school. Spring also meant taking my bike out of the cellar and finally getting to ride it again. Spring meant staying outside longer on a school day afternoon. The streetlights came on later and later.

I always felt a sense of freedom in the spring. Gone was the bulkiness of winter. The radiators stopped their hissing. The windows were free of frost and were opened for the first time in months. The house was filled with the sweet smell of the spring air. We went back to roaming on a Saturday.

Back then I loved summer, but I think spring was my favorite season. I know for certain it is now. Officially, spring is two days away, but today is a spring day.

“A childhood is what anyone wants to remember of it. It leaves behind no fossils, except perhaps in fiction.”

May 19, 2011

Today we have emerged from a post-apocalyptic world where the sun never shines. Gray sky has been replaced by blue and the sun has appeared. How long this will last I don’t know. The weather report is for showers later this afternoon and for every day until Sunday. Even now the sun is dimming, and the sky is clouding. It is warm though, and I’ll take that.

In my memory spring never had rain. It had sun every day. I’d walk to school wearing a light spring jacket, my school bag slung over my shoulder and across my chest. I remember a red plastic strap and two small pockets below the buckle which kept the large pocket closed. I’d carry my lunchbox or fit it in my school bag if I could. Spring meant we no longer walked hunched over protecting ourselves from the wind and the cold. We could take our time getting to school. I remember that every morning the school yard was filled with kids milling around waiting for the nun to come outside and ring the hand bell. We’d hear it and run to line up in twos by classes then we’d walk into the building one class at a time. Recess was always a joy in the spring.

We never counted days when I was young so we never knew when school would end for the year. The last days arrived unheralded. First was a week of testing to see if we’d learned anything then on that last day we’d get report cards and be dismissed in the late morning. I remember running home to tell my mother I’d been promoted.

Next year the old school turns 100. I’m hoping there will be festivities so I can walk through the door and up those stairs one more time. Maybe they ought to bring back a nun, still dressed in a habit, who will ring the bell to tell us it’s time. I know every inch of that building, and I even remember where I sat in some of those classrooms. I want to know if the cloakroom outside my first grade classroom is as I remember it. I want to go to the top floor and look down just as I did every day. I loved the view of wood and stairs and statues in niches. My memories are mostly fond. Years do that-clean up our memories and keep the good ones alive.

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