At least not with capital letters. It’s only the first of April, and while the grass is greening up and the crocus are blooming and the first of my tulips are blooming as well…it still seems a little overly optimistic to call it spring. Perhaps a weather anomaly, perhaps wishful thinking, perhaps a climate blessing, but I really resist calling it spring.
Too soon, too fast, too convenient.
That said, I am taking full advantage of the unseasonably warm weather. All the windows are washed, screens in place, and cool springy smelling breezes wafting through the house. Winter staleness is gone, and I am waking to the sounds of bird song. Of course, I am also waking to sticky eyes and stuffy sinuses, but such is the price of trees and grass and all the other plant material going gangbusters in the yard.
I plan to advocate for a couple bike rides this weekend, maybe a walk through the Trempealeau swamp. Dennis has been working on refilling the woodshed and there are gardens to be uncovered. It could be a busy weekend. Rain would also be welcome.
Maybe if there was a good thunderstorm I might be willing to call it spring. For now I am just taking advantage of a late winter break in the weather to get a jump on the spring chores.
I still have that hankering for one last snowstorm- the one that shows off the green of the grass and looks so glittery around the tulips. The one that melts away the next day, and the one that confuses the robins in the yard. I need that last reminder, that last slipping of slush on the road. It could happen, it’s only April. Yes, I’m willing to wait another month before I give in to spring fever.