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| Morning sun on burgeoning fox grape leaves. |
Sunny and warm after a weekend of relighting the woodstove, nighttime lows dipping to the "frost warning" mark, and chilly daytime temps that belied their pleasant mid-May appearance—requiring long pants and a jacket to comfortably sit out on the deck for any length of time.
So, is spring really, truly, finally here? Maybe. Though I fear the likely scenario is we'll now swing the other way—directly into the 80-plus degree heat of summer. That seems to be the new normal for Ohio in recent years: spring as a minimalist season, a mere blip on the radar; a deep-freeze dose of harsh winter to usher in the vernal equinox, a few mild days in which a handful of early ephemerals rush to appear, then more cold and rainy weeks, another soupçon of nice weather to allow the grass time to grow rampantly, followed by additional cold and rain before a few springlike days arrive—after which we dash headlong into full-blown, sweat-inducing, break-out-the-hammock-and-swelter summer.
Spring? Why that was merely an old-fashioned notion, an outdated rumor. Who has time for spring?
Me! I love spring. I adore spring. Way more than summer which is too insufferably hot for us boreal-programed creatures. We need our temperate fix before the shake-and-bake purgatory of July and August.
I don't want to do summer until I've had spring!
Yeah, I'm maybe a little pessimistic and more than a little grumpy. Because I'm tired of my favorite season being sullied with, messed up, interrupted, ignored, abbreviated, shortchanged, aborted! I feel abandoned, robbed! A victim of fickle new weather patterns. Enough is enough!
Consider this the lodging of an official complaint.
8 comments:
I'll sign that petition! :)
Deb
Debbie…
When two or more agree in His name…
Hi Grizz - complaint duly noted!!
We had to bring in all of our potted and hanging plants two nights in a row - the temperature dipped down to 28. And today while in the car the rain fast turned into tiny ice pellets!! It is beginning to brighten and clear and tomorrow? 80 degrees!!
Had my yearly physical - doc says I am doing very well. He is tweaking a few medications to better regulate some things but all things considered I am good. This weekend is going to be lovely - Skipp is finally on a part time work schedule so he does not work friday, saturday and Sunday. "YAY' it will be wonderful to enjoy our deck and the outdoors.
Stay cool and happy
Love Gail
peace....
Gail…
First off, congratulations on the good news from the doc! Tweaking, smeeking, those are just little details—it's the overall that matters and that's really great!
I didn't bring all my plants in from the cold, and a couple are looking rather sullen—though I believe everyone will survive. It got up to 85˚ here today, and the next few days are supposed to be in the upper 70s, but rain from tomorrow straight through the weekend. Yuk. No enjoying the deck here. Guess you and Skipp will have to do that this time around. Havwe fun!
I hereby sign the petition, too.
That is one lovely photo, Grizz, I gasped when I saw it. Good job.
Jain…
Thank you. I, too, often gasp at one of my photos…such expression being quickly followed by a disparaging moan and muttered words of disgust at my latest failure. But this time, with the sunlit grape leaves—which grow like a curtain along my narrow, riverside deck, draping all the way down to the water below, and where I puttering around photographing queen snakes—I seem to gotten it mostly right and the shot (in MHO) turned out really nice. And again the old truth smacks me between the eyes…a simple subject, in good light, is all it takes to produce a really lovely image.
Rain here today and last night. But near 80˚F! Don't ya just love Ohio weather?
'Spring as a minimalist season', should be the title of your new book.
I think Spring as we've known it is close to finished and every sweet nuance that we've experienced should be documented.
No one better than you, Grizz.
Robin…
Minimalist, abbreviated, foreshortened, more pseudo-season than actuality—winter one day, summer the next, a stuttering period wherein sweet nuances are more like sweet nothings that bear scant pleasure beyond cruel rumor to those fading springs of yore.
Oh, yes, a book indeed resides therein to be written…though, alas, one no longer a paean, but merely a tragic tale of loss, heartbreak and unrequited love, which must be called merely a diversionary modren fantasy.
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