Spring, Summer, Winter, Fall…
Oh Spring, you happy trollop of a Princess! –
once again awakening your siren call, even
on these dullest of warming days,
with your promises of rampant copulation and fecundity.
You have awoken to again breathe on my face, and we undress in utter delight!
Buddha-sitting in the midst of the pines along the ridge,
the only sounds are those of March meltingsnow and flitting chick-a-dees.
The first migrating birds have shown themselves at our feeder –
red-wing blackbirds, a tiny red-headed woodpecker, kracaws
and their signature call. A new one has also come. Little white-as-snow finch-like birds, with flits of grey on their wings and back. A new bird to the yard is always so pretty!
The cats, who locked themselves in last week because of Old Man Winter’s
final -40 death grip, yesterday lounged and rolled and played on the front porch under an afternoon sun.
After lunch we walk the old country road, arm in arm, under a rainbow of chiffon-like fog,
until the light begins to fade,
and with a sigh, turn back for home – the dog happily sniffing here and there and here and there –
perpetually delighted in his good luck at being out for an afternoon walk.
Too hot! Too soon.
A fucking flock of geese arrived at the farm today!
As a child in school, March break was about a free week to build snow forts in mountains of snow piled by the barn, or a game of hockey with all the neighborhood boys on the back lake. Some of the girls figure skating and chatting off to the side. Skating until your toes froze. Running home for hot chocolate.
My dad would drive his truck out onto the lake and he would plow us a rink. A truck on the lake. In March. That’s how fucking cold March used to be around here.
It wasn’t until late April – mid May that we would watch, while outside at recess, as large endless flocks of geese flew overhead, a great overhead migration, all bills pointed due north.
Forty years later and the birds are already migrating north. There’s a flock of geese out on the field. It’s only the 10th of March!
Last year Fall lasted well past New Year’s Eve (it was 20C two days before Christmas), and Spring has come less than 10 weeks later.
Whatever happened to November – December – January – February – March – April?
What happened to our annual 200cms of snow?
March 8th, and Spring has already awoken.
Summer is not far behind.
The mighty sea beyond the great mountains is hot and churning and we will pay for that unrest with drought and heat and failed crops.
Our Prime Minister and their President will get together today to shake and smile and promise and lie and pretend that they have everything in hand – and we will smile back rest assured and ask “What did they eat?”, and “Who made the dresses their wives are wearing?”