I cannot remember ever
being so eager for spring as
I am this year.
Maybe it was all the ice
we had this winter. Maybe
it is the small patches of
snow that are still holding
out on shady hillsides here
and there. Maybe it’s the
fact that I woke up to snow
falling on an April morning.
Maybe it’s just this
Southerner’s realization
that winter in Upstate New
York lasts more than SIX
WHOLE MONTHS.
Whatever the case, I am
more, more, MORE than
ready for spring to make
her magic on the countryside.
One afternoon last week,
when I got home from work,
I took Zuzu the dog outside
and scanned the trees for
signs of a new season. Driving
past them at a distance,
all their gray, scraping
branches still appear bare
and boney. Up close,
though, you can see the
first tight buds of a new
season.
The snowdrops and crocuses
have made their appearances
in our gardens. I
cannot wait to get out and
make the gardens a little
more presentable by trimming
out some of those
dead stalks from last year
and raking up the leaves
that were buried last fall
under the snow.
And yet the snow and
cold conspire against me,
preventing me from my
gardening responsibilities.
Although I never entertain
thoughts of moving to
Florida, my mind has wandered
elsewhere.
I search the computer
for some happy, lilting music
— something sung in
French, so I cannot immediately
understand the lyrics,
and therefore have no
idea whether the chanteuse
is bemoaning her poverty,
describing her broken heart
or exalting the beauty of
the cherry blossoms. As
long as she sounds cheery, I
don’t really care. Not my
problem, Edith Piaf!
I check the forecast in
Paris. Highs near 60 and
lows near 40 all week. Perfect.
As I type this in the middle
of the afternoon, it’s 29
F (feels like 18 F).
Actually, Weather.com,
it feels like a personal insult.
Every morning that requires
a coat feels like defeat.
I look at my daughters’
snow boots and think,
``Surely, I should be tossing
you aside or packing you
for a trip to the thrift store.’’
But no. They may need
those boots again before it’s
all over.
I understand now how
powerful it is to perform a
spring cleaning in a winterheavy
climate.
Back in Florida, spring
cleaning meant taking advantage
of those few weeks
in March and April when
you could open the windows
and be comfortable. By late
April, though, you would
rely on air conditioning to
keep you cool.
Here, spring cleaning is
an act of supreme optimism.
It’s an act of defiance,
stowing away heavy
coats and boots and sweaters
with a sidelong glance
at the weather report. It’s
an act of protest, not unlike
wearing a sundress on Easter,
no matter what the
temperature outside.
It is a warm, clear voice
on a cold morning that says,
``Although there is no evidence
of it in the air, I do
believe that flowers will
bloom and trees will give
fruit and we will sleep without
socks on our feet. It will
happen. And it will happen
soon.’’
Elizabeth Trever Buchinger
believes in spring.
Don’t forget the Reading for
Spring, happening from 7
p.m. to 9 p.m. Wednesday,
April 22, at Hoffman Lane
Bistro. Bring a reading for
spring or Earth Day, or just
come to listen.
