You must believe in spring
If you came here looking for politics today, you won’t find any. Today, I’m writing my annual “Sure glad we survived the winter” column. Well, it’s my first annual, but hopefully not the last annual “Sure glad we survived the winter” column. If that would be the case, it could hardly be called annual anyway.
Let me begin before another snow storm kicks off, and I have to put this thing away for another month, or something. If, by chance, it does snow, I’ve already pledged to myself that I will not shovel an inch of it. I’ve already retired my salt – and I’ve put my shovel away until November. Late November. So if it snows, I’ll just spread grass seed all over it.
Ah, the early days of spring. The little girl next door got her first bike for Christmas, so to me early spring sounds like a mother yelling, “Slow down. Come back. Watch out.”
I love those sounds. They’re reminiscent of my first solo bike ride, when my father (with no harmful intentions, I think) gave me a push and I proceeded to find the nearest utility pole – head-on. Who put that thing there in the first place? I’d never even noticed that pole before that day. But it’s one I’ll never forget.
This is that time of year when I welcome the early morning sounds of birds that have found their way back to Pennsylvania. I wonder where they’ve been. And I wonder if they wonder where I’ve been too. I doubt it.
I’m still waiting to see the first buds appear on the trees. I monitor their progress every year. I have that much time on my hands, I guess.
I’d like to say I can’t wait until I see the leaves appear. But last year’s dead leaves are still firmly implanted in the lawns and gutters all over the place. I’m in no real rush to see a fresh batch of them added to the old batch.
There’re those unmistakable fragrances of early spring too. I don’t know about you, but it’s like I put away my nose every winter. I’m ready to get my first whiff of grass, rain and, well, even the exhaust from lawnmowers, as long as I’m not pushing one of them.
I’m already seeing my neighbors practice that old ritual of walking up and down the street. Who do these people think they are? Get a treadmill.
OK, I promise myself every year, that I’m going to join them. I’m going to slap on a pair of walking shoes, and I’m going to walk until I sweat. Then I ask myself “why bother?” I seem to have read somewhere that just putting on a sweat suit and sneakers is enough to get you in shape, anyway.
I don’t think I’ll have to do much else.
I delight this time every year, when the sun stays above us a little longer every night. Although it won’t be long until it’ll get so hot during the day, I’ll gladly stay locked in an air conditioned room until the sun has long passed beyond the horizon.
The early spring does have its drawbacks for people in some parts of the country.
Not to sound too meteorological, it’s about that time when massive low pressure systems collide with high pressure systems, and stuff flies all over the place thanks to tornados. I’ve had my fill of those. I used to live in Wichita, where there was a tornado in the vicinity just about every early spring evening. The skies would darken; the passing clouds would quicken, and there would be hail the size of beach balls (it seems). Then came the turbulence that could lift up a family home and move it to Oklahoma.
Fortunately, though, for the most part in western Pennsylvania, all you’ll find are people colliding into each other – at the Dairy Queen. The end of winter seems to bring out the desire for soft serve in us all.
And I’m ready for it. Really, really ready.
Edward A. Owens is a three-time Emmy Award winner and 20-year veteran of television news. E-mail him at freedoms@bellatlantic.net
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