Today’s front page blared “Among the mainstays of 2020 claimed by the pandemic: SPRING.” I must admit, March is a little blurry at this point and April might have been “the cruelest month” (apologies to T.S. Eliot!), but Spring IS here! It’s been creeping up on us since the vernal equinox as evidenced by the incremental gain in the moments of light we experience every day. As an early riser I am aware of the sunlight bouncing onto my bed at 5:00 am and lasting now well past 9:00 pm. I rejoice!
This is my first complete Spring in Washington. Twenty-one desert Springs where early Spring green turns quickly to burnt yellow and brown by June to last until the rains of January told the tale of California. Last year I was in the blustery Netherlands marveling at windmills, soaking in the tulips at Keukenhof Gardens, drinking in the art of Rembrandt, Van Gogh and Vermeer. Stuffing myself with Gouda cheese and Dutch pancakes. Oggling the mind-bending architecture and avoiding bike lanes.
When I came home and recovered my jet lag I saw the Oak trees that had been wind-blown twigs when I left were all leafed out. I knew I had missed something important. Spring happened without me. This year I immersed myself in it.
My back garden was new last year. It had spent the winter as nondescript sticks poking out of the ground. The labels said Peony, Lilac, Blueberry. But all I saw was sticks. Sad little leaves of strawberry plants hunkered down in the mulch looking forlorn. Skinny apple branches banging against the fence in the wind. Tiny mounds of thyme seeking escape between the pavers.
This year I got to experience the whole garden waking up. The Sweet Pea seeds I harvested last fall are now tendrils climbing the arbor. The Clematis reaches ever higher for the sun. The Lilac bush pulses with leaves before releasing frilly clusters exuding their heady perfume. The apple tree is burdened with blossoms of promise. Lavender spikes abound. Blueberry branches are packed with newly-set fruit. A carpet of strawberry blossoms awaits the bees. It’s like there is a fresh miracle of birth every day. And I have the time to savor it.
For those who are true gardeners, this may seem so very ho-hum. But for those of us with black thumbs and a long history of burying, drowning, starving and neglecting plants, this Spring is a dream come true! Breathe it in. Revel in the white clouds marching across a blue sky. Listen to the symphony of rain drumming from great gray ships of thunderclouds. Listen to the songs of life and sleep in the silence of the stars. Cherish the gift that is Spring.
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