Spring arrived at 12:47 PM, this past Thursday.
I was outside standing directly in the apex of the little
pyramid design I had built into the center of our back deck for occasions
just like this. It helps me focus and better absorb the energy passing down
from the Universe.
It also makes it easier for the returning, northbound Geese
to target me, which I also take as a sign of good fortune…at least for the
geese.
And, make of it what you will, I actually did feel a change at just the precise moment when our days and nights perfectly balanced into a pair
of equal parts.
A sense of renewal and rebirth overtook me as the warm sun
cut through the breeze and spread across my upturned face…along with the goose
poop dripping off my ear.
Hey, it’s nature people…nobody said it was tidy.
And it was spring…finally…hopeful, emergent spring,
arrived at last to replace a season that, let’s face it, no one really has a
use for after the first of the year.
Yet, even so, it sticks around for nearly another 3 months, oblivious
to our disdain, not to mention our datdain.
So when spring does arrive, one expects winter to take the hint
and for all we care, let the door hit him in the—you know what—on the way out.
Except when I walked back inside to clean off the goose
poop, who do I find sitting on the couch, munching on a left over corned beef
sandwich—on white, no less…with mayo—but winter…stubborn, insolent
winter…watching basketball.
Apparently, winter’s a big fan.
Who knew?
Shocked, I threw up my hands and said, “Winter…what
the hell? Spring just arrived and you’re
sitting here watching basketball?”
Winter turned and shot me one of its patented, coldest stares,
“It's the NCAA...duhhh…and if spring’s already on the job, why shouldn’t I enjoy the tournament. Besides, I’ve got Dayton leading OSU at the
half.”
Which, I understood.
Still, I looked right into winter’s dark soulless eyes and
said, “With or without the points?”
“Of course, with the points,” winter replied, “You think I’m
stupid…?”
“So you’ll be here for a while, then?”
“What’s it to you…what’s it to anybody for that matter? Will
you look at that call…that’s a charge, ref…anybody can see that’s a charge!”
“What’s it to me?
What’s it to anybody? We’re all sick
of you…you with your freezing arctic vortexes, icy winds and endless snow
storms…and anyone could see that was a
block…he never had his feet set.”
Winter, dead eyes still fixed on the game, said, “Look,
I’m not due in the southern hemisphere for a while…at least another few
months. Fall just moved in down there
and I’m not in any hurry to run into fall…especially since I still owe fall
money. I never thought the Sox would take
the Cardinals in six.”
“I get that, too," I replied. "But you never bet against fall,
especially when it comes to the World Series. I mean there’s a reason they call it the Fall Classic, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah...now you tell me.”
“I mean come on…really?”
Winter turned towards me again, and now it was winter's turn to
look me straight in the eyes and say,
“Listen, not that it's any of your business…but spring
and I had ourselves a little “fling” of
our own last March and most of April, and I was hoping to catch up and maybe…well, you know….”
“You and spring?” I said, maybe a bit too incredulously,
which seemed to sting winter a little.
“Yes…me and spring…what’s so hard to believe about that?”
“Well, you’re both so different. Spring is warm and hopeful…and you…you…you’re just cold and…let’s face it…depressing…on your best days.”
“Yeah, well, so what better tonic would there be for a
dreary season like me than spring…huh?”
I just stood there, astounded, actually, over what
I was hearing.
“Winter and spring…it’s just so—hey, is that why last April
was so cold, for so long.”
Winter smirked, “Well, I don’t like to brag but—FOUL…THAT”S A FOUL!”
“Come on, he never touched him….”
“Look, I’m just taking a shot in the dark, here. I don’t
think spring is gonna be all that happy to see me…not the way things ended.”
“It went bad?” I asked, feeling maybe just a tad sympathetic
towards winter, as hard as that might be to believe.
“Once May came, all spring could talk about was, summer's
on the way, I can’t wait for summer to get here…summer this and summer that…summer, summer, summer…”
“Yeah, well…it is summer.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…everyone loves summer…everyone hates
winter…so can you blame me if a misanthropic season like me tries to take
whatever solace it can from such a sweet little season as spring?”
Feeling somewhat admonished, now, I said, “No…not at all… guess we
all want the same thing from spring. Listen, can I make you another corned beef
sandwich? On rye this time, with a
little smear of mustard…I think you’ll actually enjoy it that way, a little
more than the mayo.”
“No…I’ll stick to the mayo on white…don’t try to tell me how
I like my sandwich.”
And that was winter… stubborn and insolent, right to the
end…
“TRAVELLING…are
you blind! He walked a mile before the
shot…and bring me a beer, will ya. The good stuff, you drink. Not that cloudy
water you serve your guest…”
And with that, I just walked into the kitchen, shook my head and reached for the white bread. "Two weeks...you're outta here in two weeks...!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah...shoot it...shoot the ball...!
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