I was treated to this beautiful autumn scene of fallen, and falling, leaves on my way to work this morning. Unfortunately, it was about 26 freaking degrees and a bone-chilling arctic gale was blowing, too.
This illustrates the hard reality of our modern “seasons.” There is no fall anymore, not the kind that we remember — when the sky was clear and bright and dry, the temperatures were in the 50s, leaves crunched underfoot, and sweaters were the apparel of choice. There’s no spring, either. Just hot summer and cold winter, with about a week separating them on each end.
Too bad . . . I liked autumn.
You can argue about the season in which rural Ohio is at its best. Throw out winter — of course! — and you could argue endlessly about the lush springs, the blue sky summer days, and the colors and tastes of autumn.
Spring, of course, has its own colors — they’re just more subtle. Standing on Cousin Jeff’s elevated deck, looking out at the trees and plants and fallen pine needles and grass, you see just about every shade of green you can imagine. Couple it with cool air that smells of growing plants and bright songs from a number of different birds, and you’ve got a feast for the senses.
Kermit the Frog would fit right in.
This year, in Columbus, Ohio, spring has been a fickle creature. After a few flirtatious days of warm weather and sunshine, we’ve endured days of gloomy cold and wind and rain that felt like we were right back on the edge of winter.
Today, at least, dawned clear and bright, but very chilly. It’s one of those days where the shadows seem especially deep and dark, and the relative temperature feels like it increases about 20 degrees when you walk through a shaft of sunlight.
It’s refreshing, I suppose, but I’m ready for spring to arrive in earnest — and stick around.
Our weird winter weather seemed to do a number on this spring’s tulip crop in German Village — at least, it seems like there aren’t as many around this year. I wonder whether the warmer than normal February, followed by the colder than normal March and early April, took its toll on the flower we traditionally associate with spring (and Holland).
Still, there are a few nice tulip beds to be found, like this beauty on Third Street. Thanks to whoever planted these lovely flowers — they add a dash of color and flair to my morning and always bring a smile to my face as I pass by.
This morning I took an early morning lap around Schiller Park — because I’ve been on the road, the first such lap in a while — and as I circumnavigated the park I couldn’t help but notice a distinct fragrance in the air.
You might call it that growing scent. It’s something you smell every spring — a heady mixture of mulch, fertilizer, damp soil, growing grass, buds, newly sprung leaves, and everything else that seems to be popping as the weather warms and the rain falls. It’s spicy and earthy and a bit intoxicating, and very much welcome.
We didn’t have a bad winter this winter, but it’s always glorious when you detect that growing scent and know that spring has come.
We returned from our brief trip to Austin to find our bushes blooming, bees buzzing around the plants, the smell of freshly applied mulch heavy in the air, a gentle breeze, and a warm sun to heat the backs of our necks.
It is an absolutely perfect spring day in central Ohio. Masters be damned! I’m sitting outside and reveling in the best weather we’ve had in forever.
It’s hit the mid-70s in Columbus, with some sunshine and a nice breeze. In short, it’s a gorgeous early spring day in the Midwest — perfect for a nice, warm nap on the porch rug.