Spring is the time for growing things. In our back yard, the fastest growing thing — by far — is a flowering vine next to the fence. It was supposed to stick to a wooden trellis built by our landscaper, but it’s long since outgrown that. I put an iron support for a birdhouse or hanging flower basket next to it, and the vine has eagerly embraced that. Now, its tendrils are venturing out, eagerly seeking other things to latch on to, wrap around, and grip tightly. This plant is clingier than your first high school romance.
I like to go out in the morning to marvel at how much the plant has grown since the day before and try to redirect it away from our neighbor’s yard and the little tree nearby. In doing so, however, I’m careful to keep moving. I’m afraid if I stand still for too long I’m going to find myself wrapped in those clingy green tendrils, too.
Yesterday I enjoyed some outside time in our backyard. It was a tolerably warm day before the rains and winds came, and I wanted to enjoy that point in the year where colors have reemerged after winter’s drabness and you can breathe deep of the heady scent of growing things. Why, there is yellow back there, and green, and even a white flowering tree. After months of slumber beneath blankets of snow, and rain, and frost, our little backyard is finally waking up.
Spring always seems to be the shortest of the four seasons, with winter hanging on much longer than it should at one end and summer’s heat eager to entrench upon the other. That just makes it even more essential to get out and savor it while it lasts.
It’s been a weird few months in Columbus, and here’s the latest curious development– spiky green objects are thrusting upward from the soil here and there, and occasionally they have bright, colorful objects on top of them.
Has anybody else seen these disturbing items? Local authorities have been alerted!
Springtime is the time for hatchlings at the Schiller Park pond. Today I noticed three new goslings being chaperoned by the entire flock of resident Canadian geese. The adult geese are loud, obnoxious, constantly crapping pains in the behind, but their fuzzy, tumbling offspring are cute as the dickens.
Photographs are great, but their inherent limitations mean they can’t possibly capture everything special about a moment.
As I was walking around Schiller Park the other morning, the branches of a beautiful old tree were backlit by the first glimmers of dawn, the air was crisp but not too cold, birds were chirping, mallards and ducks were muttering to each other as they waddled past on the lawn, and the promise of growing things was everywhere evident. When I noticed the scene I realized with a jolt that spring may finally be here, and I savored the moment, enough to stop and take a picture.
It’s a nice picture, but it really doesn’t do justice to the moment. Of course, when spring does come after an overlong winter, you don’t want to see it in pictures, you want to get outside and enjoy it with every sense and fiber of your being.
We put out our patio furniture cushions and umbrella in hopes that it would encourage the temperamental weather gods to finally send us some true, warm, spring-like weather, so we can actually enjoy the patio again after months of wintry inactivity.
Instead, the weather gods wrathfully decided to punish our hopeful gesture. Last night we got a snow storm, and right now it’s 28 degrees out.
One of these days we’ll learn not to mess with the weather gods.
After this cold, dank, never-ending winter, a sighting of the first flowers heralding spring is very welcome. These hardy crocuses, which are traditionally among the first flowers to bloom in our region, sprouted between two bricks to greet the sun’s rays on a dazzling day.
It is wonderful to see a splash of bright color and sunshine after months of wintry gloom.