Where Is Spring?

Where Is Spring

An indomitable groundhog scurries across my lawn, signaling the start of Spring. A hairy woodpecker drills at sunrise on the dead branches of a nearby locust tree, signaling the start of Spring. Pyramidal piles of pea like deer droppings accumulate by my patio, signaling the start of Spring.

But, ‘where is Spring’?

The calendar confirmed it days ago. The incessant honking of returning geese announced it from the heavens. Well tanned ‘snowbirds’, returning home from sea, sand and sun, gave us reason to be excited about the start of the new season with its clear skies and bright sunshine, Spring. Even weather reporters proclaimed its arrival, albeit nervously.

But, ‘where is Spring’?

Baseball players pass hours oiling their gloves and tarring their bats, hoping that fields will be green and plush for Opening Day. Golf courses are accepting starting times and streams have been stocked for the legal fishing season to start anew.

But, ‘where is Spring’?

Easter Sunday is days away. Schools are starting their Spring break. Pot holes turn roads into obstacle courses, following winter’s thaw, challenging drivers at every turn. The early crocus gallantly pushes through the frost covered ground as a colorful reminder of the changing equinox.

But, ‘where is Spring’?

Hand warmers are sold out at local stores, garden gloves fill their spots. Shovels are stowed and rakes are displayed. Surely, worn flannel sheets will be replaced by lighter cotton covers with the new warmer season, the Spring season.

But, ‘where is Spring’?

Mother Nature was not kind to western New Yorkers this winter. Sunshine was scarce. Dark, dank clouds covered us like a thick wet blanket, day after day, so it seemed. Only a symbol on the calendar gave rise to the notion that Spring had arrived. And while my weather app just flashed this warning, ‘snow flurries starting soon’, I am compelled to ask…

‘Where the heck is Spring?’

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Blueberries, Strawberries and The End of Summer

Oh, my, have you seen the calendar? The End of Summer is in sight. Just a few more weeks of long days, brilliant sunshine and warm nights, then Fall ushers in with shorter days, fading sunlight, cooler nights and its lexicon of seasonal ‘F’ words; football, foliage and frost.

The End of Summer also means the end of one of my decadent pleasures, fresh fruit from local farms, especially
sweet, succulent strawberries and big, bold blueberries. Sliced or whole, drop a handful of these tasty morsels on a bowl of your favorite breakfast cereal (Cheerios, for me) and it’s paradise for your palate. Your lips will love you and your taste buds will tingle. How depressing, knowing the ballet in my mouth is about to ‘go dark’ until next year. End of Summer, please linger longer.

The sliced banana is a wonderful addition to my cereal concoction, and according to Wikipedia (the Internet), botanically it’s a berry. By adding a sprinkle of crushed walnuts, my bowl overflows with a cornucopia of colors and textures with the patriotic reds, whites and blues of these three fruits. But, thanks to the End of Summer’s culpable coalition with the calendar, ‘this too shall pass’, at least for the strawberries and blueberries, but not the banana.

What is it with the surviving banana? The banana seems to escape the same demise of the red and blue berries. The banana is always available and the price doesn’t fluctuate. An ‘expert’ proffered that bananas are a fast growing tree so the supply is plentiful and constant. Bananas are a healthy fruit, too, they just don’t measure up on the juicy and sweet scale, as do the others.

I’ve given up picking my own, but every season I recall the times my dad took my sister and me into the mosquito infested brush where wild blueberries thrived. We ate more than we bucketed, but had plenty for a pie, or two. My wife and I often took our kids strawberry picking in the hot sun of local fields where we competed with bees for the biggest berries we could find. What lasting memories these ‘pickin’ times made.

At this moment, the bountiful strawberries and blueberries are disappearing from grocers’ shelves and I find it fruitless to complain. After all, it is a natural change, as the seasons dictate the bounty of the produce we enjoy. Besides, the End of Summer will reward our patience with the start of the apple season. And a good apple will push the strawberries and blueberries to the farthest corner of my mind.

For now, I’ll turn to the iron filled shriveled raisin and its lookalike cousin, the craisin, for my cereal topping. And I must make time to travel south into New York’s wine country along the Finger Lakes to enjoy a unique local treat, grape pie.

End of Summer, after all is said and done, you and Mother Nature are treating us quite nicely.

‘Sometimes, I Like Summer Better…’

“Sometimes I wonder whether I like summer better, or winter better. Usually it is when it is NOT that season, that I like it most.” (Darcy)

The town clock flashed a negative 3 bone chilling Farenheit degrees, as I stood numb at my school crossing post in January. Another western New York winter arrived with a vengeance. I wiggled my toes in desperation, confirming I still had them, and thinking, “I can’t wait for Summer”!

February found me chopping icicles off my house gutters, champion size icicles, easily 10 pounds, wishing they were large mouth bass. An avalanche of snow slid off the roof, smacking me squarely in the face while I mumbled, “I can’t wait for Summer”, and felt the watery intruder melting down my neck.

Trucks plowed heavy March snows from neighbors’ driveways, while wind gusts boomeranged it back at me as I labored with my own heavy snowblower. I uncurled my frozen fingers, one by one, from the icy grips of the obtrusive machine, and beneath a thick wool scarf wrapped around my face like an entombed mummy, I cursed the forecast and screamed in muffled frustration, “I can’t wait for Summer”!

It’s July and the humidity is oppressive. Mid summer in western New York means muggy days and restless nights. A frosty winter breeze would feel so refreshing but the calendar gives me no solace. “How soon to Winter”?

Wasn’t it just yesterday that I mowed the grass? Yet, there it lays, waiting for another clipping. Is there no end to summer’s workload? Safety glasses! Earplugs! Industrial yard machines cranking up the descibles! I yearn for the peaceful whisper of a powdery snowfall. “How soon to Winter”?

An evening stroll through our garden on a warm August night demands a healthy dose of insect repellant. Even then, in a struggle for survival, the stronger mosquitoes find unprotected spots on my arms and legs to draw my precious blood. A winter frost would be my ally in this ongoing battle between bug and body. Desperately, I cry out to Mother Nature, “How soon to Winter”?

I’m comforted to know Fall is just around the corner. It’s my favorite season, you know, except for the ragweed and golden rod, of course. And, yes, it’s followed too closely by winter,with its long, cold, black nights and grey, bone chilling days…

Well, there’s always Spring…

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