In Other Words
Is it spring yet? How do we know?
January is winter. April is spring. Nice, unambiguous months. February, on the other hand, can fool you into prematurely putting away your felt-packs while March can make you wonder if global warming is a cruel joke.
If it’s tough for us, imagine what the birds go through. After a warm week of sunshine they relax, unpack their bags, and line up for the bug buffet only to find that someone turned up the air conditioning and lunch has crawled back under the covers.
As for bears, at what point do they poke their noses out of their dens and say, “yep, this is it!”? Do they ever wander out for a day or two, then change their minds and go back to bed?
And what about the Sasquatch? A bipedal primate-type creature, it seems unlikely to hibernate. After slogging through months of snowdrifts it may well share our appreciation of the fairer months.
Yes, winter can be fun if you’re dressed for it, but at some point the clothes have to come off. What if your clothes are attached?
Put yourself in the Sasquatch’s skin. The sun rises, the temperature climbs, and under that winter coat you start to sweat…then itch. You back up to the nearest pine tree and, Oh yeah! Let the shedding begin! It explains those random tufts of Sasquatch hair. I wonder, do they worry about increased exposure to UV rays—especially in higher elevations—when their tender winter skin is laid bare to the reflective power of spring snow?
Does the warming spring sun also inspire young Sasquatch males to strap slippery boards on their feet and hurl themselves down mountains? Does it induce the adolescent females to, like, totally lose their winter wear, causing them to huddle closely for warmth and grooming?
I know it’s spring when my underwear feel too tight and my boots too big.
It’s a fact that my underwear shrinks in winter. I believe it’s caused by the hot, dry air that blows around our houses and other indoor spaces. As for the boots, they fit just fine when I have two pair of woolies in them and I’m out hunting Christmas trees in –20 degree weather. Come spring, though, my feet are free-floating and those big ol’ boots turn from pretty practical to pretty ugly. By the time the sandals sprout on the store shelves my toes are screaming for daylight!
I also know it’s spring when I revisit my annual dream of trading my day job for that of a shepherd. That way, when I had a bad day at work I could just eat what’s bothering me. Bite for byte, I’m sure sheep are more tasty than computers. More wooly perhaps but less expensive to replace. If a sheep loses its memory (as my computer did right before this deadline), I’d just show it where the grass is and remind it to mind the dog. Much less stressful.
I especially know it’s spring when I inhale that first big breath of fresh air spiced with the scent of tons of thawing dog poop. Also, the Christmas tree we tossed into the back yard for temporary storage starts to throw out roots. The chickadees are eyeing it up and getting all nesty.
One way we all know it’s finally spring? It’s when our shoulders relax down from up around our ears and we lift our eyes from our feet as we shuffle down the street. We look up. The leaves are still weeks away so we can see even more of that bluest-of-blue spring sky. And the skiing is fantastic. Just remember: don’t forget the sunscreen and let the Sasquatch pass on the left.
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