‘Spring, Oh Spring – Where Art Thou?’

Pat Young
Fri, 04/04/2014 - 1:00pm

    First a howling blizzard woke us,
    Then the rain came down to soak us,
    And now before the eye can focus —
    Crocus.     —Lilja Rogers

    Spring has not sprung in Maine!

    A naughty trick is being played on all of us, yet again. However, we human beings are not the only ones being held hostage by an irritable and angry weather god suffering from a bad case of the “uglies.”

    The teeny, tiny baby buds and hibernating lily bulbs are reaching, pushing, yearning for a lasting sliver of sunlight! The trees gently hold back their leafy sprouts with all their might, keeping them warm and cozy as they prayerfully await a steady string of sunny days. Squirrels have depleted their stash of nuts and seeds. They’re ready to have some good old fashioned fun and games on dry ground. Chipmunks can be heard chattering and chirping, their itty bitty tummies growling with discontent.

    Spring is not the best of seasons.
    Cold and flu are two good reasons;
    Wind and rain and other sorrow,
    Warm today and cold tomorrow.
    —Author Unknown

    Particularly aggravating is the inconsistency of this particular winter. Such a promising tease one day and a howling beast the next.

    But, thank goodness.

    No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.
    —Hal Borland

    I search the frigid air for my pet seagull, Jonathan, wondering where he hunkers down while the winds are fiercely wild and unflyable. How does he survive these brutally endless winter days and nights? And we humans think we are being punished? But,

    April is a promise that May is bound to keep.
    —Hal Borland

    And then, hark, the drip, drip, drip from the snow packed roof, and the clear, sweet song of one lone bird on a dripping limb, then the peek-a-boo sun dares to show a slender ray, and yes,

    Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.
    —Doug Larson

    Suddenly my thoughts turn to my leaf and twig strewn garden, remembering how it blesses me each spring with rainbows of colorful faces and the heavenly scent of blossoming peonies. What’s this? My hand is curling around an imaginary trowel!

    In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
    —Margaret Atwood
     
    I love spring anywhere, but if I could choose I would always greet it in a garden.
    —Ruth Stout

    Chin up, good friends! We are almost there. The magical spell that spring in Maine casts upon us all is joyfully waiting in the wings for her curtain call. Ready the garden tools, fill up the bird feeders, bring out the deck chairs, put a spring in your step. Spring is at our doorsteps. Welcome her!

    I think that no matter how old or infirm I may become, I will always plant a large garden in the spring. Who can resist the feelings of hope and joy that one gets from participating in nature's rebirth?
    —Edward Gobi
     
    The naked earth is warm with Spring,
    And with green grass and bursting trees
    Leans to the sun's kiss glorying,
    And quivers in the sunny breeze.
    —Julian Grenfell

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