We've all used the expression
"it must be cocktail hour some
where by now". As our brutal
winter continues to blow at sub
zero record levels, who isn't day
dreaming about spring? Maybe
that's why the Celtics start spring
February first with a celebration
of St. Brigid's Day. While the
concept of an the early arrival of
spring may enchant, the reality
of minus thirty arctic blast will
brutally assault. BRRR...
One can dream all they want but
in Montana spring arrives late
and stays but briefly. Our trees,
daffodils, and tulips are in bloom
by early May. However you can't
plant a garden until post Mother's
Day. Finally, our lilacs are ready
to pick on Memorial Day. All
the reason why Frank pours over
his seed catalogs and dreams of
what he'll start in his greenhouse
come early April. A long winter
simply enhances his anticipation.
Dreaming of green things while
sitting amidst the frozen tundra
is the perfect antidote to winter
days. As inspiring is planning
one's spring wardrobe! Once sale
leaves the shop racks, spring
quietly peeks above the surface.
What was once a sea of black is
now a rainbow of verdant tones.
While few are ready to buy, the
sight of a sleeveless slip of a
sheath in quince can stir one's
heart like a breath of fresh air!
While there's little better than escaping
to a warm sunny beach in February,
there's nothing sillier than a deep dark
tan on a dark and moody winter day.
Even if baked on the beach rather than
sprayed on in a booth, somehow a tan
looks a tad "off" in winter's gloom.
The other evening I was mesmerized
by a certain politician's dark hue as he
glowed behind the President during
his State of The Union speech. Don't
you wonder what he sees when he
looks in the mirror? Ban de Soleil?
Everybody must be thinking what I'm
thinking. Otherwise why would every
restaurant be filled with bouquets of
forced forsythia, crab apple, or quince?
Dining under their branches is so very
enchanting when it's freezing outside.
Their reminder of things to come is
just what we all need. The promise
of the warmth and beauty soon to arrive
is a little bit of hope in a vase...
Who doesn't love a bit of sun?
My mother adored each spring in
Williamsburg. The tidewater area
came to life when azalea, redbud,
dogwood, and magnolia was in
full bloom. Little gave Ethel as
much pleasure as shipping us
mounds of daffodils weeks prior
to their arrival up north. Today
I stop and smile whenever I see
a jonquil or tulip. Proof that
after all these years my Mother
still puts a spring in my step.