Columnists
A Season’s Season
Spring! We’re a few days into it and some of us have already forgotten how delicious it is to wait for warmer weather and sunnier skies. I’ve forgotten. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to leave home in minus temperatures and head back dragging my boots and overcoat behind. I have even forgotten to enjoy the whimsy of early spring. The crocuses, the snowdrops covered with a delicate coating of icy pellets. I’ve forgotten how much fun is it to have a front hall full of winter boots, scarves, mittens and puffy jackets next to the spring raincoats, sweaters, Duckies and ball caps. How much fun is it to have a garden rake standing next to a snow shovel, next to the bucket of sidewalk salt next to the ginormous bag of mulch? It’s transition season, season.
I have to admit, I did get a bit “down” during those last few weeks of winter—I might still be a little bit “under the weather”. I, like a lot of other people, have had enough. I am done with being perky about a dump of snow and the not-so-gentle thrum of the behemoth snowploughs as they ply the sidewalks and streets, shaking the dishes in the cupboard and pushing concrete-like walls of ice, snow and garbage across the front walk and the end of the driveway. By the twenty-first of March I just wanted the snow, the cold, the wind and the slush to be over and done. The Neverending Pandemic was making winter feel like a big, damp, woollen overcoat. Remember the ones we wore when we were kids—soggy, musty, shivery and heavy? To me, the 2021/22 winter felt as if it would never end. The magic was gone. Me, who is usually an allseasons kinda gal, was no longer amused. But I’ve started making plans for visits to the garden centres and to the farm stands. I say, “Bring on the asparagus, the peas, the lettuces, the rhubarb and the radishes”. I want them all. I want the little brown Easter Bunny to show up in my yard, again. I want the robins and chickadees to duke-it-out over the sunflower seeds at the feeders. Come on coffee breaks on the porch and early spring lunches on the patio.
The thing is, with this seasonal attitude of mine I might find myself in the middle of hotsy-totsy August wishing for October and then pining for snow and a bit of brrr. I really don’t want to be that person, again. So, here I am. I’m putting the brakes on and trying to see the beauty of the light dusting of snow, which fell overnight, and embracing the mild-ish minus two temperature. I’m trying to see the beauty in the heap and tangle of spring jackets, winter coats, winter boots, hiking boots and flip-flops by the front door. I’m trying to ignore the leaves that fell a moment before the snow flew in 2021. There’s a distinct possibility LOML and I will have to spend a few days raking the yard once the temperature rises. Again. I’m no fool, I know I won’t have a vegetable garden, but I am working out the fine details of planting more native plants, expanding the herb garden and cleaning up the little patio area. Yes, I can plan to do that.
Today, Sunday, I’m cautiously looking forward to warmer weather. While I dream of the real spring, which the month of April brings, I do remember the photographs of my parents’ wedding day. They were married on April 11, 1944. I have a photograph of them, and their wedding party, standing on the steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral in Toronto with the snow swirling around them. It slams me into the reality of spring. Right now spring is warm and sunny with a chance of light spring jackets one day then cold and icy with a possibility of mufflers and mittens the next.
“The birds around me hopped and played, their thoughts I cannot measure, but the least motion which they made, it seemed a thrill of pleasure.” Wordsworth
Comments (0)