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Yearning for Spring
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Submitted by Katherine Weber {March, 2008 Edition}
A gray sky broods over the hill and tendrils of fog drift between the trees.
Moisture gathers on every surface and drips from the roof edge. Everywhere I
look I see gray and brown, brown and gray. A cardinal flashes by, calling
"Cheer up, cheer up," providing one bright note of color in the wintry
landscape. He wants feeding. I can see the feeder is empty.
I pull on my wooly jacket and scoop sunflower seeds into a bucket and go
outside. It doesn't feel as cold as I expected it to. The temperature is
only a few degrees above freezing but there is no wind. Those thick gray
clouds that are keeping out the sunshine seem to be acting as a blanket,
keeping the earth's warmth in.
After filling the feeder I walk around the yard, waiting to see how long it
takes for the birds to discover the seeds. Not long. I haven't walked twenty
feet and the cardinal is at the feeder, busily pecking away. His mate and a
crowd of chickadees and titmice soon join him.
The flower buds are swelling on the maple tree. Their deep crimson color
glows against the gray branches, seeming to gather light from the foggy air.
Strange that they are always so much brighter when the day is gray than they
are when the sun is shining.
Here and there clumps of daffodils and crocus shoulder through the dead
leaves. Each year the daffodils seed themselves to new parts of the yard as
older clumps become crowded and die out, increasing in beauty as the years
pass.
The crocus are a different story. The first year I lived here the crocus
were so thick between the persimmon trees that they looked like a pool of
purple-blue water. Now I rarely get to see even a single bloom as the deer
love them even more than I do. I can't begrudge the flowers though as the
deer have an unparalled beauty of their own that always causes my breath to
catch when I see them. Yesterday I counted fifteen browsing under the trees,
all does with last year's fawns. Only twice have I seen an antlered buck in
the yard and both times he was alone.
All the trees have dropped several limbs this winter and I notice that one
of the persimmons has shed some bark also. It may be dying. Since I'm out, I
get the garden cart and load up all the debris and carry it to the brush
pile at the side of the yard. Someday I'll get a chipper and make mulch out
of branches like these but for now they can provide a haven for chipmunks
and other small wild things while they molder.
Back inside I stand by my desk and survey the array of garden catalogs
spread out there. Pictures of lush flowers and mouthwatering vegetables
flaunt themselves in front of my eyes, calling out, "Choose me! Choose me!"
I want them all, but I have selected only a few. My orders are sent in, now
all I have to do is wait. Wait for the packages to arrive. Wait for the
weather to warm enough. I yearn to plunge my hands into the bare earth, to
plant something that will grow and produce beauty, to spread color across
that drear gray landscape. But for now - I wait. --Katherine Weber
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