It has been a long, cold, snowy winter. It meant long days inside and low activity. But lately, as the days lengthened, and the temperatures warmed a bit there is a promise in the air. I could feel my spirits lifting. It was gentle, kind of like an awakening- a whisper of things to come and a belief that the worst is behind us. No real proof of either but a ray of hope. This past Sunday my daughter and I went out for dinner. There is a restaurant in our town that had been on hiatus for several years beginning with Covid and it just reopened. We used to go to it decades ago when the kids were small. It is a Chinese restaurant, one of the first in our community so it was like going down memory lane. To our surprise, it was a flash back into the 70’s again. Nothing changed! The decor was exactly as we remembered it. We had a very nice dinner, light conversation and a very enjoyable time! As we were getting up to leave our server dropped off two wrapped fortune cookies for us. I never liked the way fortune cookies tasted but always enjoyed reading the fortune. I cracked open my cookie and removed my fortune. It said, “An optimist is the human personification of spring.” It reinforced the way I had been feeling with the slow but definite evolution of spring. It further lifted my spirits and I attached it to my refrigerator when I got home to remind me if things stopped evolving. The promise was getting stronger.
I have to admit it is rare when I get labelled with that characteristic, but I have to admit it struck a chord. I have been feeling lighter, more positive as the temperatures warmed and the days lengthened and yes, as sunlight poured into my living room. Just reading that little slip of paper lightened my entire mood and actually put a smile on my face. I had been making plans for things I had to do this Spring and that little poke gave me the incentive to really focus and stop procrastinating. The biggest spring project i have is to clear out my garage which has been a dumping ground for every spare tool, planter, unused furniture for the last 5 years or so and not just my stuff. My kids helped fill the 2 car space with a lot of their belongings as well. Today, while the sun shone, I began by clearing out a huge 45 gallon aquarium, stand, filter, light, the works and rolled them all out to the street with a FREE sign. In our community I have started seeing a lot of free stuff out by the curb and I am hoping someone will come along and partake of the great deal. It is going to take some time but I am in the right frame of mind to deal with it. I have several other items ready to be labelled and put curbside for the collector, hoarder, or just passerby who wants the particular item in waiting. And as I see more and more space opening up in my garage, my enthusiasm for the project will intensify and my spirits will climb. In all honesty, I have a basement full also that needs to be thinned out.
The thing is, my temperament, rather than being overwhelmed by it all, is actually experiencing a revitalization and excitement I haven’t felt all winter long- and it is a great feeling! Couple that with the nurseries beginning to open and promise of new flower beds and lawn pots to be filled my mood as changed and I actually have things to look forward to. Sure, there is a lot of work ahead- hard work. Gardening used to be easy, but with my knees now and the difficulty I have standing after groveling around in the dirt for a while it is difficult, but it doesn’t seem to interfere with the promise of colorful flowers in large planters by my front door or rear gardens. The colors and the freshness in the air override the knee pain and the effort of straightening my back after bending over for an hour or so. Every night I like to walk around my house and look to see what I accomplished and if anything new is popping up through the soil and mulch. Pride is a great motivator.
So I am going to go with the fortune cookie explanation and ride it out for as long as I can. I have spent too much time this winter huddled under fleece blankets or dragging the garbage out under layers of scarves and woolen gloves not to rejoice in the rebirth that this spring promises.
A Season That Whispers – Begin Again
George writes of spring and how it lifts his well-being after feeling immobilized and sheltered in by another Hudson Valley winter. He uses words like hope and promise—lifted spirits, awakening, feeling lighter, enthusiasm, revitalization, excitement, accomplishment, rejoicing, and pride.
When we discussed his ideas for this post a couple of weeks ago, he said he wanted to write about feelings and spring—and indeed he did. That he would focus on feelings is not unexpected; George often talks and writes about how he feels and the circumstances that shape those emotions. What caught my attention in this piece is how uncharacteristically positive it is (as George himself acknowledges). Knowing he is so upbeat lifts my spirits as well. Hold on to that enthusiasm, my friend.
I have written before about my love of each season and my excitement as the signs of transition appear. Fall is the most delicious of the four, followed closely by…spring. Each year, I look forward to returning around March 1st from the warm and wonderful—but essentially two-season—Florida to Delaware, where spring begins sooner than in Georgeville and Wally country. Bulbs push their green tips through the warming soil, tree buds begin to swell, and my thoughts turn to garden preparations. By the end of March, the pear trees are blooming, the redbuds are ready to pop, and John, my neighbor across the street, fires up his lawn tractor for that first cut.
I love the crisp mornings, warming days, and early sunlight. When Duke licks a hand or toe sticking out from under the covers at 6:15, I no longer tell him to go back to his bed. I’m ready—to take our first walk, make breakfast (first for Duke, then for me), and begin work on the gardens I planned in my dreams the night before.
And like George, when I look around at all the projects I have in mind for my gardens and property, I no longer feel overwhelmed. Partly because I have the means to hire help if I decide that’s what matters most. But what matters more is doing the work myself—alone or alongside my grandson, my neighbor Ian, or Teresa when she returns from Florida. The joy of working with my hands, and with people I love, is one of the most physically and emotionally fulfilling experiences I know. And to recognize that I still have more ideas—projects that must wait until next month, next season, or even next year—is a reminder that my time is not up. There is still much life left to live.
“An optimist is the human personification of spring!”
– Susan J. Bissonette
Waking Up
April is fickle. In Henry’s neck of the woods, Spring is in full cycle. George can see the promise of Spring in the Hudson Valley’s April, but in the north country in April, Spring is still a debate. We arrived in the Adirondacks mid-April to a drab and dreary landscape. Several days of rain flattened any new growth attempting to stand upright and the ground developed humps and valleys as moisture works to find equilibrium.
And yet… you could smell the ground. They say this is one our most acute senses: the ability to smell the earth waking up. It became more apparent after the rain had cleared and I raked the leaves off the islands of ostrich ferns in our backyard. There was still no sign of life there – the fiddleheads usually poke through in late April and grow to their height of two-to-three feet in May, barring a late season frost.
And frost is always a possibility. Temperatures are uneven: yesterday, we reached an unusual and overheated 80 degrees in the sun – today it is 32 and snowing. Tee shirts to goose down — where is Spring? I guess it’s where you find it, because it is still playing hide-and-seek. However, I think our bodies know when it’s that time; it’s visceral. Bliss Carmen writes:
“Make me over, Mother April,
When the sap begins to stir!
Make me man or make me woman,
Make me oaf or ape or human,
Cup of flower or cone of fir;
Make me anything but neuter
When the sap begins to stir!”
The mallards certainly know that the sap is stirring. I sat on the bench by the channel watching a pair forage in the mud. The water level is kept low by the Black River Water Authority until May, so there’s lots of vegetative opportunity for this couple. Soon, there will be eight or more ducklings following the mother. Flocks of Juncos pillaged our open spaces on Thursday, but have disappeared today – likely journeying further north… so they also know that the earth is waking up.
But most importantly, George also feels it – fortune cookie or no. It’s good to hear him respond to the call of Spring!
Three Old Guys Walked Into A Bar 