C'mon Spring

It has been a hard winter. Last winter seemed pretty mild, if I remember correctly, but this winter was pretty tough. As an outdoorsy kind of person, I will still go out from time to time even in a brutal winter. I’ll put on two or three layers top to bottom, slip into my heavy coat with a hood, and go out the door. When it is bitterly cold I am not out for a long time. Maybe a half hour tops. But I like the winter stillness and quiet, and I actually do not mind the early darkness, at least for a few months.

Still, there’s no doubt about it; I like spring better. And aside from the extra daylight we’re getting with every passing day, the first signs of spring are already here. I think one of the first signs of spring is the cardinal chortling from the top of a tree. In fact, in the past few weeks when the sun has been out and the wind has not been howling, the male cardinals have been singing, at least a few of them have.

Any time now a few of the heartier flowers will appear. Crocuses are generally one of the first. They seem very anxious for spring. Sometimes they will make their way up between little packs of snow. For my money they are just about the prettiest flowers, but then I love the purple and orange combination. Red bud trees have pretty pinkish blossoms. They can often be seen along the side of country roads. My favorite color of blossom on a shrub is the flowering quince. I love the soft peach tone.

Sometime soon, when we have a couple of consecutive warm days, I’ll be outside and an insect or two will go buzzing by my head. All through the summer insects will fill the air and I won’t think a thing about it, but when the first few bugs motor by my face in late winter or early spring, I smile and take note.

In a month or perhaps a little less the first tree frogs will chirp. The grey tree frog does more than hibernate through winter; he freezes solid. No respiration, no pulse. He then thaws out in the spring as if the winter never happened and continues about his business. Winter is not my favorite time of year, but I would not want to become frozen and miss it entirely.  

In about a month the first wave of migrating birds will pass through heading north. There will be indigo buntings, black and white warblers, and scarlet tanagers. I’ll go out with my binoculars a couple of times a week to see what winged friends I can find. Pretty soon I’ll have to take my hummingbird feeder off the shelf and ready it for the summer. Those little guys will be hungry when they arrive from their long trip and I’ve got to be ready.

When I was about 11 or 12 years old a couple of mourning doves made a low nest in our backyard tree. It was mid-March or so. They had a couple of eggs and one night there was a late winter snowstorm. The next morning I went out to examine the nest, and there was the dove on the nest, completely buried in snow up to the neck. Only her head was visible. But despite the snow, she seemed none the worse for wear, and remained true to her nesting instincts. By midday the snow had melted, a few days later the eggs hatched, and within a few weeks the chicks had fledged.

According to Marty, his 11 year-old daughter, Melissa, seems to hold some admiration for me, god only knows why. Maybe I can get her into the outdoors and make a nature-lover out of her. It’s happened before to girls. I am exhibit #1. And there’s no better time of the year to begin than early spring.