Spring officially began last week and I barely noticed. Its arrival flew under the radar stealthier than a Chinese weather balloon. There was no March lamb or March lion announcement. The anemic winter weather of the 2023 season faded out in a gray haze and morphed into spring as the fog dissipated. And now it’s here.
I like spring. The new beginnings. The season of rebirth. But truth be told, I’m not crazy about the month long transition between March and April. The ground is still hard. Everything is still gray. The flowers have not yet begun to sprout. I did spy a lonely crocus or daffodil or some sort of yellow flower on a green stem poking up from the rocky mulch in my front yard. I don’t know how the single plant got there. A lost remnant of a discarded flower pot perhaps? A stray seedling cast upon the wind? It doesn’t matter how it got there, I’ll take signs of spring wherever I find them.
It’s still early in the season. I’m waiting for a wave of unusually warm weather to sweep over New England and usher in an early summer. It could happen if the current weather trends continue. I’d love to experience an earlier than usual warm-up at the beginning of April. But New England weather is fickle especially this time of year. One never knows what to expect.
I should make use use the of the next two weeks getting an early jump on cleaning my yard. I could rake the sticks off the lawn. I could remove the large rocks that have appeared out of nowhere over the winter. But I won’t. I have the best late March excuse. “It’s too early.”
These next few weeks are my least favorite time of the year. The biting March wind lowers the air temperature making even semi-warm days seem cold in the sun and freezing in the shade. Doing anything outdoors makes me wish I wore a warm coat instead of a spring jacket.
Unsettled weather rules the forecast. Rainy March days are not like rainy summer days. There’s nothing romantic about borderline sleet. April has the potential of brining with it a month of cold drizzle. Weeks of rain. April showers are very overrated.
I don’t like keeping the heat turned up in my house when it’s bright and sunny outside. If I turn the thermostat down, the pre-spring chill creeps through the slightest crack and crevice making everything feel cold and damp. It really bothers me when it’s colder inside the house than it is outside. If you see me standing motionless on my front porch staring at the sky, I’m just trying to warm up.
Patience is a virtue. Good things come to those who wait. I’m waiting for the next few weeks to end. I’m waiting for spring to fully envelope the area. I’m waiting for the greens, the yellows, the blues. Meanwhile, the birds are in my backyard are waiting for me to fill the empty feeder.
“Come on, man, let’s get a jump on the season!” they seem to be chirping as they look at me.
I move away from the window and close the blind. I walk to my living room, turn the thermostat up a couple of degrees, put on a heavy sweater and wish for warmer weather. I know it’s coming. I can feel it in my bones. Or maybe that’s just my arthritis kicking in.