How Do You Know When It’s Spring?

After the longest four weeks in February, I am finally in a springtime state of mind. Although it is chilly and rainy today, there are those unmistakable giveaways that have switched my brain from winter to spring mode.

First of all, the birds are noisy! They wake me up in the morning with all their happy chirping. They live in giant holly trees lining our driveway and are very clever at hiding themselves. If there weren’t bird poop on my car, I wouldn’t know they were there. Most of the winter, they’re pretty quiet, engaged in staying alive by eating anything and everything we put out for them: suet, seed and peanut butter. Come spring, the courtship is on, the feeder is less in demand, and we have to make sure we close the garage door and take down the seasonal wreath on our front door. If we don’t, dollars to donuts we’ll have nests in a week or so. One year sparrows    nested in the wreath and took umbrage that we opened the door once the eggs were laid. When the babies had hatched, we posted large warning signs for delivery people not to come to the front door. Mama bird was not happy.

Second, the trees have a fuzzy, purplish- green hue to their branches. This is due to the leaf buds, what artists called it “impressionistic spring.” Probably because the impressionists did such a good job painting it. Believe it or not, I first heard this term when as a high school junior, I was being given a tour of the Middlebury campus by an art major. Some things just stick, even decades later. And no, I wasn’t accepted. 

Third, crocuses, undeterred by cold weather, bloom in my sort-of garden (more like a wild, whatever comes up, comes up, area) and the daffodils sprout. Right now, their yellow blooms are starting to unfold.

So having transmuted to a neural springtime, I can only wait for warmer weather and the opening of our pool. In the meantime, I’ll try not to dance naked on the grass.