The Barometer
A sure sign of spring—year after year
Spring is on its way
On my birthday my mom likes to tell me how hot it was that early May day in Manitoba when I was born. Really unusually unseasonably hot, apparently. Year after year I hear how hot it was that day.
“What, am I supposed to apologize?” I thought when in my teens. Now I look forward to discussing how my weather in the top left compares to her weather in the middle. It can snow on my birthday or be suntan-hot, or, more usually, mild and windy. Blow those puddles away, wind!
Now I hear myself wishing my son “Happy Tuesday!” pretty well every Tuesday because that was the day of the week he was born. At least my mom only bugs me once a year; I bug my son once a week. The day he was born, as it happens, was unusually clear and cold. You should have seen the blue of the sky! The bright sun on the snow!
Every year my mom looks forward to spring. She will tell me, Dec. 23 or 26 or in early
January, “Spring is on its way.” There is no arguing with that.
For example, one can note the lengthening days, the shorter nights. That is undeniable. This is how she bolsters her argument that spring is on its way. She urges me to acknowledge this fact, or to confirm that I have already noticed it.
A major problem with spring is that as a non-holiday season, the holidays that are available are really quite lame.
March Break, that secular, scholastic invention always seems to be too little too late. We were all sick of ham sandwiches for school lunches and homework every weekday evening a long time ago.
Easter used to be more of a spring celebration and is increasingly becoming an unpredictable interruption. It hops around the calendar from year to year like, well, a loopy bunny. At least there will be plenty of ham for making school lunches.
And don’t get me started on Mother’s Day. I want breakfast in bed every Sunday, or at least coffee. Except for that awful Sunday when we have to Spring Ahead, losing a precious hour of sleep, a cruel aspect of modernity.
Here’s something good that happens each year around this time: there is a special, short time of the year when it is too winter to mow and too spring to shovel. That time is right about…. about… NOW!
This is the time of year when yard work is purely theoretical. It is too soon to realize that yes, you did remember to plant those bulbs there, because they are not yet up. It is both too late and too early to deal with any leaves still on your lawn. It is best to wait ‘n’
see. It is not the time to dig, or even to decide where to dig. Besides, it is SO distracting to decide things when all the trees are talking, I find. All that wind gets them rustling and whispering, sometimes through the night.
Spend this time wisely: it is short. It’s after winter and before summer. No shovels, no rakes, no skating, no swimming.
Enjoy watching TV, if you like, or change jobs. Take time to pore over seed catalogues. Count all the round things in your bathroom: bath drains, plugs, tp roll, toothbrush holder, shampoo caps, Comet, door knob. Do this kind of thing now, while you have the time to reflect.
It’s not the New Year that’s the new year, it is spring. I recommend, next fall, you plant blue-eyed grass, a tiny bulb that pops up in the yard, and is gone again before mowing season. Their “twee-ness” and “in-between-ness” is charming. Be surprised every spring when you see them come up, and annoy your child by excitedly pointing them out year after year as A Sure Sign of Spring.
Year after year after year, as if it were the first time.
What are the conditions at your place? Does your mother tell you the same thing every year? And is your area so rainy that the only snow that needs shovelling is water, and the only grass that needs mowing is moss? Write “Yard Work is Theoretical” at this address: ctoews@monarch.net.
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