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.
This Wonderful Life
April 9, 2009
This Wonderful Life
Sometimes spring requires a leap of faith
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- This Wonderful Life: I can say No, but I prefer Yes If popular culture is any indication, it seems women suffer from an epidemic inability to refuse additional responsibilities. Magazines, self-help books and therapists nationwide offer heaps of advice on how to assert oneself, draw boundaries and generally say No when asked to sign on for those things for which we have little time and less interest.
- This Wonderful Life: I wish someone had told me Disclaimer: Because my son more or less demanded that I stop using him and his life as material for my column back when he was 12 or 13, I want to make it perfectly clear to all my readers (and any legal professionals who are now retained or may be retained at some future time by aforementioned son) that this column is not about him. It’s about me. The fact that he happened to turn 21 on Saturday is mere coincidence. So help me God.
- This Wonderful Life: A view through bare branches Every morning, Bee and I stand at the end of the driveway waiting for her bus and we look up into the branches of the elm tree that arches over the drive.
- This Wonderful Life: To Posey on her fourth So here we are, on the other side of 3-years-old, and it seems we both survived it intact. It wasn’t easy, but perhaps it made us both stronger.
- This Wonderful Life: A Posey by any other name... A few weeks ago, Posey gave us all new names. Or, to be more accurate, Posey gave us all one new name. Rose.
- This Wonderful Life: Are pork chops really that good? If it seems unlikely for a vegetarian (that would be me) to own a couple of table- bound pigs, it probably seems downright absurd that their names should be Tender and Delicious.
- This Wonderful Life: I sssssseeeeeee you there The first thing you should know is that I used to suffer from a snake phobia. The operative word there is phobia. It wasn’t just a matter of disliking snakes. It wasn’t a fear of being bitten. It wasn’t a simple reluctance to touch their impossibly dry, nimble bodies.
- This Wonderful Life: What’s so funny? My kids, I hope In my experience as a three-time parent, there is something absolutely, spiritually magical about the first time your child cracks a joke.
- This Wonderful Life: Who are these little girls? There are two children in my house who bear a striking resemblance to my daughters. They are adorable, smart and energetic.
- This Wonderful Life: A harvest that’s good for the soul Signs of harvest are all around. The afternoon sun glows amber over the fields and the farm stands are filled to overflowing with vegetables and fruit. We’re lucky to live in a place where we can have such an immediate connection to the food we eat.
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