spring

Longing for Spring

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Last week we returned from a midwinter trip to southern Florida to our home here in the “Heart of it All” Ohio. I like the slogan. Close your eyes a little and squint at the shape of the state. It is slightly heart shaped. These days here it is a cold heart.

Sit back and relax while I whine a little about the Ohio winter made worse by visiting Florida in late January. I am just starting to understand the snowbird phenomenon and why Delta Airlines has direct flights from Cincinnati to Naples, Florida bypassing their home port Atlanta, Georgia which is actually on the way.

When Cheryl was still here, winter weather was terrifying for two reasons. The first was obvious. She did not move well with her Parkinson ailment, so, any slippery surface was an opportunity for a catastrophic fall. She did not think well with her dementia ailment, so the winter darkness brought on strange behaviors that I did my best to help her cope with. We did many late night drives around a four mile loop I invented on the fly to take her home because her sun-downers syndrome convinced her that she was not home. Once I took a different path “home” and she told me, “This isn’t the way home.” I never varied from my original route after that comment.

I am not terrified of Ohio winter any longer. Inconvenienced perhaps. Uninterested in winter sports perhaps. There is a great sledding hill just across the street on an old abandoned golf course but I am not going there.

Going for a walk is inconvenient. Most folks just shovel off the driveway if they shovel anything at all.

Going for a bike ride is out of the question for similar reasons to those of walking. Many drivers are incompetent at that in normal daylight dry conditions. Cabin fever makes them aggressive it seems or maybe they are upset that the dairy guy is unable to refill the shelves in a timely manner and they will miss out. FOMO sires aggressiveness. Bicycle riders be damned. And it is too cold in any case, I am a warm weather rider.

Mostly winter anywhere is just gray while the world awaits the return of the sunlight and warmth. The view of the woods from my living room window will be bleak and gray for a few weeks more. And just as I am thinking these sad thoughts, a cardinal appears in view outside of that window and lifts my spirits.

He is wearing his best late winter plumage. He is looking for a mate. His distinctness against the gray and white is fantastical. He whispers change is coming. He cheeps a little because there are no females in this woods. He is off again.

This picture is from my trail camera that Debbie gave me for Christmas.

Spring is coming.

Carpe Diem.

Daffodils and Forsythia

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I think of these as two of the basic food groups of the Spring flowers. The picture included here is immediately behind my little condo on the next property. Some kind soul who is probably no longer with us on our journey planted this bush and the clump of daffodils near it just so Wisdom could show me the beauty of nature.

This particular forsythia had its ruffled skirt trimmed off by my neighbor upstairs who felt that it was unfurling too invasively across the meager lawn covering last season. At that time in my life I was preoccupied with the end of Cheryl’s life and my own stupidity after a bout with too much vodka one evening. I did not speak out in behalf of this fine example of nature’s finery. This year I feel better suited to defend its propensity to thrive into its natural shape both ungainly and glorious though it may be.

We humans have a propensity to modify, adjust and change the world to our own design. Why is that? Are we unable to accept nature in its natural form? I enjoy formal gardens as much as anyone but I also enjoy woods and flowering plants in their natural habitat. With Cheryl gone almost a year I am slowly and considerately adjusting my living space to me and my habitation of it. The view of this forsythia and its companion daffodil clump are very special to me. They shout, SPRING IS HERE. I can hear them.

Soon our landscaper folks will show up to tune up the gardens around the building, spruce up the mulch and generally trim things. Rigor will be added to the plantings. The forsythia will be ignored, thankfully, because it is on another’s property. We do not own the woods next door.

Further down the property others have cleaned out the forest floor to plant and maintain various gardens and “improvements” to nature. I will not. But I will trim up my little space around my patio after the landscaper does his thing.

Rains come down, daffos dil, sun shines, birds poop and honeys suckle. The landscape is unfurling as it can and should. The vernal has had its equinox and light is returning to our part of the planet. Wisdom speaks again.

Carpe Diem.