Wednesday's Words for April 8, 2009

There’s snow on the ground.

It’s April 8th and there’s brand new snow on the ground.

The only good thing about this is that I am going to be ever so much more appreciative of the Florida sunshine when I go to Orlando for RT in a couple of weeks.

I know there are many of you who have been whacked by this round of spring snow storms who have a lot more snow fouling up your spring than I do. Do you all feel, like me, that Mother Nature has just given us the finger? I ask you, is that any way for a mother to behave?

Last autumn I took great pride in buying several boxes of spring bulbs. I bought tulips in three different colors, crocuses, grape hyacinths, daffodils, and Narcissus. I was hoping to finally get them in the ground this week.

Yes, I know they were supposed to be planted in the fall, but the ones who had volunteered to do that never got around to it. So I figured if I got them planted within the next few days, they’d still bloom before the heat of summer.

So I’m waiting for the sun to melt the snow and warm the earth, and tapping my foot impatiently while I’m at it.

The other ritual of this time of year – gardening being the first – is spring cleaning.

I wish I was more anal when it came to getting my spring cleaning done. I have some limits on my physical abilities, and I do the best I can. But usually what happens is my ambition outlives my functionality. I want to have the entire house clean and fresh and get it all done on the same day. Well, I can’t but there’s a plus, here, too. Now that there’s only the two of us, things do stay neat and tidy and clean a bit longer than they did. So while I may not get everything done in the same day, at least the over-all affect lingers.

It hurts, these not-so subtle reminders that I’m not in my twenties any more. My brain doesn’t seem to want to accept the reality that my body is aging.

The trees haven’t budded yet, so as we linger in this curious between-season time, and as I look out my window and watch the snow fall, I look for other signs that spring really is here. A few times in my life, in the dead of winter, I’ve dreamt it was spring with images so vivid, that it takes a few moments, when I wake up, to understand they weren’t reality.

There are some signs that spring is here. I can see a couple of robins on the lawn, looking as unimpressed with Mother Nature’s sense of humor as the snow flutters down upon them, as I am.

Early each morning as we leave the house, my husband on his way to work, me driving him there, we’re greeted by birdsong – that lovely sound that fills the air just before sunrise. It’s a sound that’s startlingly absent in the dead cold months of winter, and the first indication, in my mind, of spring.

Before the sun lightens the sky, as we make our way to his place of employment, we can see the morning star—Venus—and that to us is another sign that spring really is here, regardless of the freezing temperatures and white groundcover.

“You know,” my beloved says, his tone a little too serious, “there have been times in history when spring and summer didn’t come, due to ash from volcanic eruptions or dust clouds from meteor impact. So, just because the calendar says it’s spring doesn’t necessarily guarantee that it’s going to be spring in reality.”

“That’s fine,” I reply thoughtfully after a few moments. “If spring doesn’t come by April 26th, I’ll just stay in Orlando.”

Love,
Morgan
Wanton Wager
The Lady Makes Three
Now available: http://www.bookstrand.com/authors/morganashbury