Spring in My Step

A row of crocuses appeared in my garden this week, welcomed in by the 75-degree temperatures and announcing with their muted fanfare that Spring has once again arrived. There are many signs of Spring, but I can think of no better than the dainty crocus, with its slender leaves and lavender blossoms. The first days of Spring are a time of rebirth, and best accompanied by classical music and a comfortable pace. Spring needs no artificial adornment. Just pick up the flotsam and jetsam left by the falling tide of melting snow and let nature's splendor reveal herself again.

One should pay attention at this time of the year; walk slowly and repeatedly over the same course, noting the new arrivals of the day. Listen to the birds as they return and build their nests. Walk out in the morning and feel the change in the air. Wait for the first daffodil, the perennial second-place finisher, that rises taller to look down upon the crocus line, already in formation.

It was different when I was young. Then Spring was fast-moving water and building dams and muddy shoes and t-shirts well before the actual temperature might suggest them. Spring was two days off of school and Easter candy and Opening Day of the baseball season. But most important, Spring meant that summer vacation was only a few months away, which was the time of year we all really looked forward to.

I don't look past Spring any more. In fact, I don't look past any time or season. As I approach my 50th year I try to appreciate the simple pleasures of the days I have been given. So I welcome the arrival of the crocuses, and smile as I pass them every day, noting that yet another has sprung up to join his mates. He does not require my approbation, and though it means nothing to him, I yet mark his arrival with an approving eye as I make my self-appointed rounds.