Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always to be blest.
The soul, uneasy and confined from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Alexander Pope wasn’t writing of spring when he wrote this, but I think of it when I recall this passage from his Essay On Man. Summer is a season of abundance, autumn one of beauty, winter one of cold death, but as winter wanes and the days become longer, thoughts of spring bring a renewal of hope. In the church it obviously brings hope of eternal life as Easter and the Resurrection of Jesus nears, and I see that promise in nature. After months of lifeless vegetation, months of poring over seed catalogs planning the vegetable and flower gardens of my dreams (which I never do accomplish), the first hint of hope springs eternal in this human breast.
First, the clouds seem more likely to contain rain rather than ice, sleet or snow. The weather is moderating; no longer are there endless days of bone chilling cold, but moderating temperatures as spring tries to burst forth with 65 and winter attempts to hold on with a 27. Suddenly there are birds happily chirping in the morning, making me almost smile as I start the day (face it – I’ll never be cheerful in the morning.) Mere days after I first hear the birds’ morning serenade, I see my first sign of life…..tree fuzz. I cannot tell you what that does to lift my spirit. Not being a cold weather gal in any sense of the word, seeing tree fuzz gets me more excited than watching P&P and seeing Colin Firth in a wet shirt. I’m an outdoor girl…..I need sunshine and fresh air and blue skies and big white fluffy clouds in order to survive. I need the color green. Nothing is as wonderful as the first day I can open the windows and top on the CRV, drive down a country road, wind whipping my hair, and singing at top of my off-key, out-of-tune lungs. (Do not equate this outdoorsiness with a desire to camp, use the forrest for my bathroom, or come into close contact with wild animals and those slithery things starting with ‘sn’ and end with ‘ke’. Nosiree, bob. Not no how, not no way, not no where.)
Then come the spring bulbs starting to pop up…hyacinth, daffodils, and tulips. The pear, dogwood, and viburnum blossom, the green shoots of grass begin to emerge from the brown thatch, the liriope lining the sidewalk and the stella d’oros in front of the yews begin to push up from the mulch. Tiny mouse ear leaves start budding from trees, giving a hint of fall color before they turn green. The first evening I can serve dinner of the deck, leaves me grinning like the town fool. The aroma of the first grass cutting has me outdoors, deep breathing the air like it’s the last there will ever be. Soon, I can be outdoors again on a regular basis.
The soul, uneasy and confined from home, rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Can you hear it? Can you see it? Can you smell it? Spring! Hope is arriving.
