Spring. Sppprrrriiinnnnggg!
By definition. Leap! Jump! Skip!
Bring on energy! Warmth! Light!
I love spring because it oozes optimism. Toss the coat. Lace the sneakers. Pull out the bikes, skateboards, porch rocker.
Move forward!
Warm breezes scatter the scents of lilac and magnolia. Earth exchanges gray and brown for green, white, yellow, red.
Spring shouts color, hope, promise!
And surprise.
Clouds gather. Temperature swings.
Dense, crystalled flakes descend on a world eager to burst into color. And plop on all of us eager to get on with it.
Temperature taunts. Snow succumbs to ice. Spring skedaddles.
Spring’s mood swings (congruent with my mood swings) were in full force last week: 60s…. 70s…… Snow.
I wanted to be annoyed when I awakened to a white, glistening landscape just a few days ago, in the middle of April. But as I fog-headedly shushed my yippy pup, hurried downstairs to pull open the patio door, and dropped the shih-poo into snow, I was startled by more than a wicked blast of ice cold air.
My backyard was alive.
It chirped, chattered, chimed.
The doves that recently returned to stand watch atop the pool fence cooed carelessly.
The cagey chipmunk and his nemesis, black squirrel, chased each other around the patio in their usual morning pursuit.
The cardinal who whistles and whistles - and waits for Bearded Boy to whistle back - and whistles and whistles and whistles, whistled.
I grabbed coat, boots and pup. We slushed our way across the wildlife preserve a mile from home. Crisscrossing trails and swamp, we listened (I listened, pup sniffed) for bird calls in the bitter breeze.
Swallows, sparrows and sandpipers were getting on with it.
Mallards and warblers were getting on with it.
A great blue heron, and red-headed woodpeckers, well, you know.
The trails and swamps were buried beneath snow. And the birds carried on with their business and busyness.
Pup and I trudged (he bounced, I trudged) through that fresh, pulsating, precious, screeching, powerful, chirping, lyrical, yipping, astonishing morsel of morning.
And I understood.
Spring snow had no intention of squashing the sound, scent and vitality of the world beneath it. It was celebrating, encouraging that world to Sing! Fly! Scamper! Feast! Nest! Grow!
The few remaining mounds of spring snow melted in the warmth of today’s glorious spring day. But the lessons remain.
Winter snow silences fauna and fowl. Spring snow sings.
Winter snow grips. Spring snow instructs.
Control; forget it. Surprise; embrace it.
And, above all, get on with it.
mtd 4/2018
