Winter does seem over. According to the latest weather forecast available as I write this, the temperature likely will be low in the 70s where I live when you read it. This is something to recognize with giggles of excitement.
Let me assume that we’re all on the same intellectual level here in expressing our almost poetic thoughts about the quite obvious change in the seasons.
Winter is over! Yippee! Way cool.
I may have brought the most eloquent among us down to my level with those words, but, quite frankly, I don’t care. Winter does seem over. According to the latest weather forecast available as I write this, the temperature likely will be low in the 70s where I live when you read it. This is something to recognize with giggles of excitement.
Or, to quote a brilliant poet named, not Ogden Nash nor e.e. cummings as is believed, but rather “anonymous,” according to online research:
“Spring is sprung, the grass is ris.
“I wonders where the birdies is.”
I may have dragged eloquence down another notch with those lines. The arrival of spring will make you act silly.
OK, officially it is not yet spring. Spring doesn’t arrive officially until March 20. But, really, I ask you, isn’t the meaning of spring found less on the pages of a calendar and more in the hearts and minds of men and women who just can’t stand slush anymore and who are, incredible as this may sound, actually appreciative when it turns to just mud?
Let’s face it, spring starts for all of us whenever we want it to begin.
For some, the season began when spring training started, back in February. Oh, maybe not when pitchers showed up to sort of play catch and talk about what they did over the winter. But, certainly spring was evident when the rest of the rosters reported.
Others believe spring starts in the fall, when the spring fashion trends are revealed, months before anybody is actually wearing it. Yet, experts know what the new trends will be, two seasons before they start. Isn’t spring miraculous?
At the very least, spring starts for precise timekeepers when Daylight Saving Time returns, and we are forced to repeat that silly saying — “Spring Forward, Fall Back” — so we know what to do with all our clocks. And, once we’re all awake that hour earlier, and whine about it a little, we’re usually quite happy that there will be so much more daylight at night, so we can do yard work and wish it was the hot and dry part of summer when the grass doesn’t grow so fast. We’re never satisfied, where seasons are concerned.
Personally, spring for me starts when the morning air warms and you start to hear the birds sing — so loudly and close to bedroom windows sometimes that it makes you roll over in a springlike manner and mumble, “Shut up! Can’t you let me just sleep for another 10 minutes? Go migrate somewhere like it’s winter, will ya? ...”
I know it doesn’t sound as though I do, but I love spring. Spring is the season of rebirth, renewal, reawakening, and, when my golf league starts, recreation, although each year spring usually shows up with a reduction in skills and sometimes a bit of reinjury.
Spring is a state of mind. And, the moment that the sun comes out and the temperature rises and we all come out of our homes grinning like ninnies, we begin to develop spring fever. It really is an illness, I think. Otherwise, you wouldn’t feel better when you take a sick day off for it.
Contact Gary Brown at email@example.com.