Sunday, April 26, 2009

Signs Of Spring



I've been snooping around. I'm looking for the signs that winter is behind us and we can move
forward (with gusto!) into longer days, green grass, higher temperatures and yes, seasonal allergies.
Last month, I saw a robin on my lawn. The starlings have begun their noisy gossip as they unearth sleepy worms from the boggy grass. The crows bossily move in and stab their shining beaks into the sod, pulling up worms like rubber bands *SNAP*!
The lilac trees which line our driveway have begun to swell with buds, with a promise of delicate perfumed blossoms and the fine yellow dust of pollen which will make my eyes itch and water.
The rivers have been rising and moving more swiftly, carrying with them the old, the dead, the discarded. Darkly, they rush and roil, threatening to intrude the basements of low-lying houses. Later, they will recede, swirling lazily and benignly. From a distance, they will be blue, but when looking down from a bridge, I will see clear through the bottom water the colour of flat beer and speckled trout.
A couple of weeks ago, I noticed the perfect green, smooth noses of crocuses pointing upwards through the winter detritus of litter and old leaves. They were unconcerned with me, and continued to unfurl purple petals in defiance of the nasty weather. This morning, I pulled on my rubber boots (the only things I bought on a trip to NYC a couple of years ago- not hard to tell I'm a baygirl) and trudged through my mucky garden to take a few pictures. (Naturally, I accidentally stepped in one of the many piles of dog poop revealed from the melted snow!)
Some winters seem longer than others, so we cling to these signs of spring like a life raft, bouying us up and steering us through the minor annoyances: dirty doggie paws, squishy sucking mud, garbage, hidden landmine turds, rain rain rain, spring cleaning (which sounds more fun and energetic than it is), sick and cranky babies, empty oil tanks needing to be filled, endless renovations, car inspections, car repair, rust, dirt, decay....
March marches into April, which drizzles into May, which whispers into June.
Summer, with bright blue mornings, eating breakfast with the windows open to the serenade of backyard birds, tiny tufts of clouds, red geraniums, the thrum of buzzing bees, fluttering butterflies, and if you're lucky, the wink of a hummingbird shyly flitting by. Summer, with the sting of sunscreen in your eyes, the smell of barbeque, the dazzle of a thunderstorm relieving the accumulated humidity, the gentle lap of water on sand, nights of fireflies, fireworks, bonfires on the beach under the dome of a deep turquoise sky jeweled with a thousand shimmering stars. It IS coming...and will be gone again before you know it. So enjoy every sign, no matter how small and insignificant it may seem.

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