The dress at the back of the closet.

March 8, 2013 § 4 Comments

Native azaleas.Good news!

It’s spring again.

I’ve seen spring before.  Many springs.

But for me the arrival of spring is like reaching into the back of my closet, attracted by the bit of green that shows behind the winter greys, to find a forgotten dress.

Turning slowly in front of the mirror, I discover that it still fits–and that it is just my color.

The quiet neutrals that were good for winter’s brief days and long cold nights move now to the back of the closet. Spring is the season of new green.

In my neighborhood the grass seed spread at the edge of the road in the hopeless cold has suddenly put out vivid shocks of stand-up blades. Walks with my dog, Moo, are slow. To appreciate green she has to taste it.

And as we walk Robins fall like apples blown down from the trees. They land with a thud, then strike up a creaky chatter.

Warblers, brilliantly dabbed with yellow, flush through the branches. Anything with feathers, even birds so tiny they would barely fill your palm, are dressed for the dance. Spring is the season of courtship.

Wildflowers.My azaleas, those brassy circus performers, are dropping flowers on my roof. Yes, I let the Fourth of July pass without pruning them and they are rewarding my negligence.

Cirrus clouds hang high and thin.

The sky is a crisp clear blue.

Flowers so tiny they are almost stemless embroider lawns, turning them into mille fleurs tapestries. I’ve tried picking them, but they die when given windowsill light and water.

By the human calendar it is tax season. St. Patrick’s Day is approaching. The school year is sprinting toward a battery of make-or-break tests.

I have no doubt that, like mine,your human calendar is full.

Now, listen to me as if I were your mother.

Before summer breathes down your neck go outside and play. Do it while the world is cool and green and singing its heart out.

Go outside and play before you forget how.

Note: Here is a post about an earlier spring

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