Holding On To Spring

Why is it that just as the plants get busy, peeking up from the ground and blossoming and spreading their leaves, that I get busier too?


I adore all the seasons and the changes they bring (though perhaps long, icy winters least of all), and spring is certainly at the top of the list.

There's something about those first days when it's finally comfortable to step outside in flip flops and a t-shirt again, when the dreariness of winter gives way to the cheerful hues of new plant life, when the sky somehow seems clearer and bluer than it has in months, that I'm drawn to.


So it devastates me when it's also the season when deadlines come fast and furious, when there's a mad rush to present research and finish papers and a million other things on campus, when new opportunities that are much more time-consuming than I ever imagined get added to my already too-full plate.

And my only moments to enjoy the songs of spring come quickly, furtively, as I walk across campus or pull out of the driveway or stand on the back step for a couple of extra seconds when I let Butter inside.


In these brief moments of respite from the madness, I snatch a glance at the tulips that have bloomed without my permission, at the daffodils that have already long since opened, at the joyful spring attire of the flowering trees that is already giving way to new green leaves.

I file these details away in my memory, hold fast to them as the early spring blooms begin to drop to the ground and the pollen coats my car, trying to live in the moment rather than looking ahead.


And I think, with hope, that perhaps next year things will be slower. Perhaps next year I will be able to stand barefoot among the perennials that have bloomed in the front yard, that daily I may be able to breathe deeply beneath the lilac bushes that I pass, that I will be able to soak up every moment of spring and its glory.

Yard Work

Finally ... a weekend day warm enough for some yard work. And boy did our yard ever need it.


In front, it was attack of the sweet gum balls and dead leaves. In back, let's just say Butter left me a lot of little presents over the past couple of months I needed to clear out.


Yes, that was my discreet way of saying out backyard has been overrun with dog poop. (Sorry, people, but sometimes I just have to spell these things out.)


So Conservative Hubby got out the rake and set to work, while I handled the delicate work of clearing leaves and sweet gum balls from around the perennials starting to sprout up in my front-yard garden. (That's what you're seeing here, in case you were wondering.)


Then we bagged all the leaves and debris and I headed to the back for some more yard pick-up. And no, I will not share a photo of the little presents. I'm going to trust that you've seen that sort of thing before, although I hope for your sake you've never stepped in any of it. Because that's gross. I speak from experience, many times over.


I really hope my talk about dog poo isn't distracting you from these lovely green things. I'm ecstatic to see so many plantings making an appearance already.


Most of these were planted in the perennial garden last spring, so this is the first time I've witnessed them peeking up from the wet earth, slowly stretching out toward the warmth and sun and promise of spring.

Of course, there are the regulars that I've met a few years now getting ready to bloom too. Not many of the daffodils are to this point yet, but a few little buds are teasing me.


By Monday, I think this little one will be ready for its full-fledged greeting.


What do you think?

Greeting Spring

Technically it's not spring yet. That doesn't happen until a week from Saturday, if you listen to the folks in charge of the calendar.


But don't tell that to my favorite spring flowers, who abide by a calendar all their own. The daffodils (above) and tulips (below) began peeking up from beneath the mud last week.


And don't tell that to the other pretty green things making their appearance.


I checked back on last year's first flower post, and it looks like we're just a few days behind last year's progress. (The lovely 65-degree weather was a few days later too. But rejoice—now it's here!)


So consider this your notice: The flower posts are beginning. And spring has sprung!

Smelling Spring

Ah spring. How I love thee, even when you jump from warm and bright one day to blustery and chilly the next.

In particular, I love the way you smell, like sweet pink hyacinths.


And equally sweet white hyacinths.


I also love the way you look, like water droplets on green petals.


So I will gaze—often—out the window at the blooming, dewey perennials.


And make excuses to go stand by the kitchen sink as much as possible so I can breathe in the scent of these pretty little blooms I brought inside.


Ah spring. How I love thee.

A Correction

Yesterday, when I mentioned that I was excited for spring and so were the pretty green buds appearing in my front yard, I missed out on including someone on the list.

This guy.


As the days grow longer and warmer, Butter spends more time gazing out his window at the lovely almost-spring unfolding. He also spends more time in the backyard on his long chain, playing in the mud and chasing evil, evil squirrels who threaten his domain.

And everywhere he goes, that darn tongue seems to follow.

You do see why my front window is never, ever clean, don't you?