We have lots of little idioms connected with spring in the American vernacular. You know: "spring forward"--when we "want" to give up an hour's sleep to have more daylight even though the days are already getting longer all by themselves. Or "he has a spring to his step" implying energy, bounce, elation. (Not to be used of anyone the morning they "spring forward.") Monetarily, we are often encouraged to "spring for it," pick up the tab so to speak. Deplete the extra bank account. (This is rarely said by the person expected to do the "springing.") And then there is always the "spring fling"--a time of joyous celebration. Anyway, the word "spring" has a lot of connotations attached to it, and such is the case for me as I walk Iten's Acres here in the spring of 2012. For me, it's a time of mixed emotions.
Actually it all started with the winter. Only one good snow, not much cold, not really a winter. Proof? I had daffodils coming up in early January. I had a fern that lived through the entire winter. Yep, the entire winter. Never died. Poor thing must be more addled than I am. The calender looked normal; the weather was bizarre.
And then things really heated up. Long before spring officially arrived, the warmth of spring swooped in. Ohio has been rehearsing for summer for over a month. Seventies and even the low eighties. Thunderstorms. High humidity. Peepers. Flowers blooming a month early.
Now as a flower addict that should be viewed as a good thing. Right? There should be a "spring in my step" as I traverse the Acres. As I walk each day, the blooms of late April and May are already here en masse. Usually in mid-March there are a few early crocus scattered here and there, snow drops, and perhaps the dwarf daffodils in, where else, the Spring Bed. This March? The willow trees are already "leafed out," and the ancient maple is ready to follow suit. I have gorgeous daffodils everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. All the beds except the Blue Bed have a host of them. (Horticulturists have not yet "invented" a blue daffodil.) The pond is surrounded--hundreds of yellows, whites, and pinks gracing the shore line. All the places I've "naturalized"--I love naturalizing--are bursting with blooms. You can't stand anywhere on my property without seeing a host of daffodils. Stunning. In a couple weeks I expect to have a thousand daffodil blooms on Iten's Acres. The crocus for the most part have already bloomed and faded away until next year. A few of the traditionalists are still popping up daily. They refused to be enticed by the weather and are adhering to the calendar. And hyacinth are everywhere. You can find them blindfolded. Ahhhh, the common scents of spring. There are corydalis, grape hyacinth in all their colors, dwarf iris, even the tulips are joining the parade. It's a joyous, beautiful walk.
But it's a month early. And being human, I struggle with embracing my "spring fling," the "good" of the beautiful landscape without expecting a disaster soon to come. Why are we humans like that? Okay, why is this human like this. Instead of being content and fully embracing the good times of blessing, I keep thinking some "evil" payback must be on the way. Sigh. If only I could be content and fully embrace the joys without those fears ricocheting around my mind. I mean, the "frost free" date for Ohio is May 1st. That's almost two months away. The forsythia just bloomed. FAS says I have three snows yet to come. (If you have seven forsythia does that mean 21 snows? By the way, thanks Mom and Chloe for the forsythia starts. They've done well.)
Anyway spring is here in full force. My walks are lovely. But . . . What's that old verse we use to say as kids: "Spring is here, the grass is ris" I wonder where the flower is? Oh, there you are you blooming idiot." Ahhh, if only this idiot would enjoy his "spring fling," walk with a spring in his steps in the full confidence that a real winter isn't lurking behind the jet stream waiting to spring forward and make me spring for it.
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