Despite the measurable snow and the freezing temperatures within the past week, that quintessential symbol of hope "Spring" has finally sprung. Here's what I love about spring:
Those early days as the sun starts to return when, if you breathe deeply and slowly and hold really still, you can actually watch the grass grow greener by the minute.
Shirt sleeves. One more example of how everything is relative. In September 60 feels chilly and moves one to grab a jacket. In March, as soon as it gets above 45 it's time for short shirt sleeves to welcome back the sun.
Crocus. Daffodils. Tulips. Forsythia. Just for starters. Soon, flowering plum. I love the tangible evidence that something so apparently dead can show new life and in a big, beautiful, colorful way. I especially love how the blossoms don't shrink or bow under the fallen snow, but burst their bright shows of color up through snow with a hint of wanton rebelliousness.
Tossing out the alarm clock and waking up to the birds (not in the Hitchcock sense...these are just happy, harmless little nesting birds). I don't even mind that they wake up earlier and earlier--and earlier--clear into summer.
Warmth. Through a sunny window. On a blanket lying on the grass. Against the brick on the southern exposure of my house. This warmth seeps in and thaws even the coldest and darkest parts of my soul.
Moderation. Stuck between the chill of winter and the heat of a Utah summer, spring offers just the right mix of temperatures. The seasons we have here are good for people like me who have short attention spans.
Let there be light. Despite the percentage of Finnish blood running through my veins, I need light. I am always relieved to kiss the SAD good-bye and fully embrace the light again at the end of a long dark winter.
Spring really awakens much more than just the flowers, grass, plants and trees. Spring arouses every one of your senses. Watch the renewal of life. Feel the texture of warmth. Listen to the return of the birds and the bees. Taste the breath of the sun. Smell sweet daffodils, soft cherry blossoms and perfect lilacs.
Kites, kids playing outside again, a break in the silence of winter, my 10-year-old wearing her swimsuit and cleaning off the slip-n-slide as it warms to mere 50, bubbles blowing, digging down deep in the warming soil. It's all good!
Happy Spring!
12 comments:
and in Spring the Spammers also bloom.
Love your tribute. I love spring, but I'm not ready to tackle the yardwork that needs to start. I totally missed dumpster days, so now I will have to find a new way to get rid of all the yardwaste that doesn't fit in the green can. Maybe next week I'll get that springy motivation.
Did I totally kill the mood of your blog?
I got a SUNBURN yesterday!! I pushed T-- on the swing for almost two hours and got a sunburn on my neck for my troubles. I love it!
Beautiful writing. I especially loved the image of the flowers being wantonly rebellious! Ahh, spring! Makes you want to sing "Here Comes the Sun."
Spammers=Weeds.
I am missing Spring. Lubbock has trees that have bloomed but the grass is still trying to turn green (the grass usually turns green in early February). Alas, we did have about 1" of snow last week. I made my one and only snowball for the season.
Last October we planted nearly 100 bulbs in our new flower bed. Because the winter was so dry and mild, all my bulbs suffered and only a few have sprung up. They are so tiny and only one has bloomed. It is the sorriest looking flower bed we've had in 7 years.
So, y'all will have to use your green thumbs for me. There's always next year... If ever I get a free Saturday, I might plant some new flowers just to have something growing.
Lo--We missed the dumpsters too, but only because I was living, sleeping (well, not so much, really), and breathing Lauren's wedding and Shane was living, sleeping (a little more than me, but not so much either) and breathing SEPs. Oh well. I'm seriously thinking about renting a dumpster and emptying the entire contents of my house into it. Well, maybe I'll keep the kids and the quilts.
Julie--thank you. I love the word wanton and any time I can couple it with rebelliousness I'm a happy girl.
Lyle--I left the "weed" in because until you all came along my "garden" was bare but for the weed. It looks better now, thank you.
Today is a gloomy day and I'm hungover with Benadryl and Allegra, so I'm glad I wrote that when I was a little more chipper.
Last Saturday I woke up at 5 in the morning and could not get back to sleep because I was so excited to hear BIRDIES SINGING!!! I went downstairs to lay (lie? I never understood the difference in that one) on the couch and at around 6, my 4 & 1/2 year old came down and cuddled with me. After a few minutes, she whispered, "Mommy, do you hear that? Do you hear those birdies?" "Yes, Honey." "Is it Spring today?" And yes, Saturday WAS spring. And Sunday was not.
I love the scenes of people DEFYING the cold, going outside anyway, because the calendar says it's spring.
See? See all the big words and flowy sentences you make? I am no match. I bow at thy wordy feet. Love, Your Sister
But I'll admit I actually had to edit my post and visit Mirriam Websters a couple of time to get it just how I wanted it. I bet words flow off your fingertips effortlessly.
You are my sister because I too am smitten by the dash mark (-). I think in dashes. I love the northwest (hailing from the beautiful Willamette Valley, but I adore Seattle). I have always loved the movie "Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead" even though I have never seen it--the title alone merits my admiration. I also love Loreena McKinnitt and "Eats Shoots & Leaves" and I'm just dying to read this!)
You are my superior in that you are creative enough to have named a child Piper. Beautiful.
And did I mention how much I'd love to see some of your quilts?
Blog on sister friend!
~j: Today was not either, although rain is a sign of spring, I guess. Although I usually embrace the rain, it didn't feel like spring and I was defeated by the gloominess instead of defiant. Maybe tomorrow.
But speaking of the birdies. Thinking about lying there awake and listening to the birdies in the morning also reminded me that soon we will be lying there awake and listening to the crickets in the night--another favorite pastime of mine. It's not that I can't wait--because it would be a shame for spring to pass too quickly--but the promise of summer nights will get me through more days like today.
"Piper" was a fluke. I was coming up with at least 1, if not 3, names per day to name our unborn baby girl to the point that my hubby demanded I never ask his opinion of names again and that I have sole responsibility in the naming of our last child. I poured over the internet, movie credits, IMDB.com, books and any reading material I came across to find a name that wasn't too common yet not too bizarre. Piper came to my mind without any of those props; just popped right in there. I hadn't heard it (of course I have in the past but I hadn't recently), read it or had it suggested. I wrote it down but really didn't believe I'd name my kid that --- it's so quirky. I told no one. Then my mom was at the airport to fly here for my baby shower when she called my dad to tell him to call me and tell me she thought of the name Piper. My dad even said he thought it was cool. Hmm. Really? Creepy. At my baby shower a sheet of paper went around asking for baby name suggestions and my mom was the last to write. Ben came across the name list and started asking, "Who wrote Princess Anastasia Diane?" We both agreed that was probably Aunt Diane. Then he asked, "Who wrote Ceree?" Yes, Ceree; like cereal for short. We agreed on the weirdness of that one too. Then he got to Piper. He asked the same thing (Who wrote Piper?) and I was worried he hated it too because I was seriously considering the name. He said he LOVED it and we should DEFINITELY name her that! Well, that's shocking because he made a big deal about not caring. Then my mom, son and I were shopping in Park City when I found alphabet beads P-I-P-E-R. We went next door to Starbucks and, during small talk, the barista asked what the baby's name will be. Piper, I said, nervous for his reaction. He liked it then asked how we'd spell it. Spell it? How else would you spell Piper? For a short time we thought of not only naming our kid with a quirky name but spelling it completely bizarre like a LOT of Utahn's do (HUGE pet peeve of mine; San Dee, Kaytea). Pypre? I don't think so. Since we invested $2.50 in the alphabet beads, there was no going back.
I received a bulletin on MySpace that suggested that I go to Google, input my name with the word needs, then click search...so I did. This was the third listing and I saw that it had my name spelled the way I spell it, of course I had to check it out. You see, my parents too wanted a different kind of name. Having said that, I will tell you the story of how I got this name. My father remembered a little girl he met when he was about 10. She was only about 3 or 4 years old. She was lost and crying so hard all she could say was her name which was Piper. It turned out she only thought she was lost, she was just a couple houses down from the home her parents were visiting. Anyway, my father remember it. They both liked it but my father wanted it took "look English", and so, they named me Pypre. Isn't life strange! :)
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