Waiting for spring.
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Two feet of snow have disintegrated from
within, ice has answered my prayer by vaporizing,
and the cheerful robins have returned.
Yet, the date for the beginning of spring is on
last month’s calendar. How can that compute?
Impatience is epidemic to those tired of the
long, dark winter. I find myself in that hopeful
mob anticipating warm sunny days. Where are
they?
I dutifully took Arlinda’s instructive class
on gardening. Thankful I am that she provided
so many printouts regarding soil, insects, fertilizers,
sun, shade and watering. I would never
remember if I should like aphids or, maybe it
was bees. Having decided to turn the “driveway
to nowhere” on the west side of my place
into a garden area, I am impatient for spring as
I anticipate colorful blooms in place of stickery
weeds.
Winters are my hibernation times to quilt,
read, write and drink hot chocolate. My days
of skiing or snowmobiling were brief, at best,
and now nonexistent. I don’t mind crunchy
snow, but ice is my nemesis. Enough already.
It’s time for spring to step on stage.
My sons will be here to visit this weekend.
The Mom’s To Do list is lengthy. Besides replacing
light bulbs and waiting while I clean
the fixtures, I want my garden hoses dragged
out and connected, and my yard critters hauled
out of storage. John gave me metal/wicker
chairs with a matching table for the deck. I’m
sure that set would love to see the light of day.
Don’t forget the cushions. My daughter-in-law
and I will drink iced tea as we supervise. They
are all good to come and give me a hand – it
would be nice if spring made an appearance
also.
Fishing trips cannot be far off, but sunshine
would be appreciated. Mark took my pole to
Salt Lake City to get the ceramic leaders replaced.
How many folks wear those out? I must
remind him that time is now of the essence. I
plan to build my own worm farm this summer.
It’s maddening when I arise of a morning to
hear the rainbows calling, but my worm carton
contains only slimy bodies. I drowned enough
creepy crawlers, I should have my own supply.
Ask me in August how that venture turned out.
Besides my impatience about waiting for
spring to show up, there is my anticipation
for the Easter season. You know that today
is Good Friday. I often puzzled over the term
Good Friday. One of the most tragic things in
all history occurred that day: the crucifixion of
God’s only son. What was good about that?
The Heavens were angry, earthquakes occurred,
and the veil of the temple rent in two.
So, I checked to learn why it is called Good
Friday.
Some say it was originally God’s Friday,
considered a day of mourning. Just as in the
Old English saying, God be with ye, eventually
became Good Bye, so God’s Friday became
Good Friday. The good being that He
was sacrificed for all of us. I do hope you are
a believer.
When I was still at home, I truly anticipated
Easter week. My church youth group often
did the Easter Sunrise service out atop a cedar-
strewn hill, as well as before-school Holy
Week services. My Mom, bless her, was all
about new Easter outfits. Who was I to argue?
She made many of my sister’s and my outfits,
sometimes to match. Dad surprised us with
real corsages, even one for the 7-year-old. Easter
was and is such a special time.
Easter Sunday is eagerly anticipated all
over the world and celebrated in many ways.
In America it is a time of traveling to visit family,
attending church together and sharing family
dinner. The kids enjoy the egg part of the
celebration. Don’t ask me how that bunny got
involved. Someone once remarked that Easter
is that time of the year the rabbit comes out to
take credit for what the chickens worked at all
winter.
But, like spring, Easter is more than bunnies
and eggs and candy, fun though they are. The
correlation between the impatience for spring’s
arrival and anticipation for a new cycle of life
throughout creation with the Easter season
is not to be missed. God knew what He was
doing setting Easter in the spring.
For now, I am impatient for spring warmth,
a new garden area and fishing season. My anticipation
I’ll save for Easter.