Saturday, March 31, 2018

Heralds of spring

March 31, 2018

I'm hesitant to actually suggest this for fear of the repercussions, but I think spring may have arrived in my neighborhood. From my desk, I can look across the backyard and into the woods. I've spent years planting daffodils in my woods. Many of those clumps are blooming. Most of them need to be dug up and thinned, an easier job now that we have the John Deere. 

What pleases me most this year are the little blue snow glories along my lower driveway. I first planted them on the bank in 1981, or maybe it was 1982. Regardless, they've had decades to multiply and finally, this year, put on a grand show. That's the thing about country living. Everything moves at its own pace and we rarely have a say in it. I think it's worth the wait.  

Even more telling that spring may finally be here are the little peeper frogs. This past Wednesday night brought a drizzly rain and a deep fog. I stepped outside with Deuce and heard one or two tiny voices in the distance. When I arrived home from bowling last night there were many loud voices. I loved hearing them, being grateful they're still around to sing. I think they have some sort of magic that tells them it's safe to emerge from their winter sleep.

Spring brings a lot of work. We have a lot of yard clean-up to do this season. There are branches down all around the perimeter of the lawn, a lawn which is getting a bit of over-seeding this year. It's time to take the snowblower off the John Deere and get the loader back on it. Yesterday, I put the bistro patio set on the porch outside my office and I can't decide if I like it there. I'll have my mind made up on that by next weekend and can swap things around if I chose. 

While we wait for the ground to dry out, we have a few inside projects to complete. There's new flooring for in the bathroom and a fresh coat of paint. That may well lead to new kitchen flooring. Laminate is cheap and easy to change out. 

I rescued my late grandmother's set of East Lake platform rockers from my mother's basement and they're getting a fresh coat of paint and new fabric on the seats and backs. Those rockers set in my grandmother's kitchen, one at each window, for decades. When I visited my grandparents, I often found them in the kitchen watching the birds from their respective spots. My grandmother's rocker is replacing the chair in my office and my grandfather's is replacing the rocking chair the spousal unit hangs his "wear again" clothes on. (We need to discuss that habit.)

Yes, there is much to do. It's spring, you know.

KC Kendricks

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