Longing for Spring

Trilliums in spring

For a couple of weeks now, it has been light when I awaken in the morning. It is still light when I close the blinds after 5 pm. Even though it is still early in March, somewhere, somehow, winter is ending.

For some people, the anticipation of spring starts with the arrival of seed catalogs. I have been thinking about gardening in my back yard Do I want raised beds? Will I rent a rototiller? What kind of tree will I buy to replace the ungainly mulberry that I had cut down last year? Right now, I want spring to come so much it hurts.

This is a dangerous time in my part of the world. Winter may be ending on the calendar, but in Oswego, NY it can easily snow in late April. At the end of May, when people take flowers to the cemetery for Memorial Day, it is usually cold and rainy. It is not unusual for hopeful gardeners, seduced by the displays in the catalogs and at the garden centers, to set out plants too early. What can you expect when winter has been around since last October?

Around here, we like to say we have four seasons, but the four seasons situation is pretty precarious. Winter rules, followed by a summer that may be hot and dry or hot and humid, and we generally have a reasonable sort of autumn (but not last year). Spring, when we have it, doesn't seem to last long, which is a shame because it is such a beautiful time.

I can't think of anything more beautiful than the soft green of new leaves on the trees, unless it's the scent of lilacs. What is more moving than a forsythia in full bloom or a great drift of daffodils in new grass? Just don't blink, because the only thing more overwhelming than the beauty of spring is the speed with which it disappears.

One of these days I am going to plant some spring flowering bulbs. At least, I am going to plant some daffodils and crocuses, and maybe even some hyacinths. I don't plant tulip bulbs anymore. Why pay out good money to feed the squirrels? I had some overgrown lilacs cut down to the ground last year, and I am curious to see what, if anything, sprouts from their stumps. I already know that after the two peonies in the back yard bloom this year, my friend Michele is going to come and dig them out. She loves peonies, but for me, they are always a disappointment. Last year they were loaded with blooms that collapsed a day later when it rained. When they're gone, I'm going to plant hydrangeas.

At this time of year, a lot of my thoughts start with the words I'm going to. Not all my plans come to fruition, but the plans themselves do much to sustain me.