It is officially spring. The birds mingle at the feeders and splash in the fresh water of the bath in the flower garden. The clouds drop cool rain from the sky and clean away the last remaining remnants of winter.
The lilacs are sharing the last of their blooms. Their sweet fragrance hangs delicately in the air but will soon fade to the smell of summer heat. The sun is warm but not hot. Leaves and grasses are as bright a green as they will be before the sun bleaches and fades them. The only bugs are the Bumblebees and the entire world is in bloom.
Spring unfolds in stages. The crocus are the first to break through the cold earth. Then come the tulips and flowering fruit trees. The sweet columbine drop orange pollen to the ground as the dandelions open their yellow faces to the sun and release their cotton seeds under the moon.
Soon will come the showy peony against a backdrop of roses and blooming dogwood. Teeny-tiny fruit are beginning to take shape on the branches of the pear trees and the strawberry patch has pushed out its first round of flat, white flowers.
Cool nights are spent on a sleeping bag in the backyard next to the heat of a roaring fire. There is nothing to do but be with the stars: no chores, no responsibilities, nothing hogging my attention, no distractions. Just life, just now.
Saturdays and Sundays I hear lawn mowers and weed whippers, chainsaws and power tools. The neighborhood has come out of hibernation in a rush to complete their to-dos.
It was 70 yesterday and todays it’s 50. The ping-pong of temperature reminds us to slow down, spring cannot be rushed. But it’s still not warm enough for some, “soon it will be summer” they declare. Soon it will be 85 and sunny. Soon we won’t need jackets. Soon. Soon. Soon.
As for me? I’d rather linger in spring.