Come on Spring

The wife is sick, I think she has the flu. I am not very good at the nurse thing. On the rare occasions I am sick I just want to be left alone. That way the latent hypochondriac inside me can prod the "poor me button" endlessly until I get so pissed off that no one cares about me. I get well in a fit of spite. Needless to say, I am a very bad patient and all who come into contact with me are glad I am relatively healthy...knocking on wood firmly and repeatedly here, Boss. Seriously Fate, I am not offering a challenge, just stating facts.

I think this time if year is my least favorite. The weeks just before Spring are filled with anticipation. We are waiting on the warm weather and bursts of color like a kid shaking and staring at the presents under the Christmas tree the week before Christmas. "Come on get here" we say to ourselves.

For me it is especially hard when it gets warm, then cold again. In early February I was in Florida and came back to gusty winds and blowing snow. Last week we hit the low 60s, then Friday we dropped back into a temperature more suited for your beer 'fridge or maybe even the freezer. I can stand the cold, it is the warm days that get up your hopes and then smack you with the reality of snow and ice. Mother Nature can be a real prick tease. She reminds me of that girl Marlene who let me feel her up through her swimsuit but would never give me a crack at the real thing back in the summer before ninth grade. You remember her? She probably went by a different name in your memories.

What I really wait on is some color in my life. The grass is brown, the trees mere blackened sticks. Ice rims muddy puddles in the fields and washed out trash collects along the fence rows. The withered remains of last fall's mums wait in the flower bed to be plucked up. The wind blows the dried tans of the big grasses outside the living room window. This morning, the sky is a dull blue. It sports none of the vivid blue that highlights the summer clouds. The sun shines, but has no warmth. Even the big Douglas Fir seems muted in its greens.

Like the old Carly Simon song that was hijacked by ketchup, catsup, whatever, I am anticipating the first burst of purples and yellows as the crocus and tulips poke from the ground. I cannot wait for the columbine and the crab apple to bloom. The bluster of March will give way to April rains and the soggy fields will yield the green spikes of young corn and soybeans. The cold winds will blow warm and I will glory in the heat of summer.

The boy begins baseball practice in a week or so. By the end of March games will begin. The ping of the bat and the smack of horsehide on leather will evoke warm memories. Brick dust and chalk, thunderstorms and flowers are in the weeks to come. Another birthday will mark the calender's official Spring. A few more weeks and the winds shift south.

Another season, another week of life will pass us by. Happy March Fools Day to you too.