“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”
Dorothy, Toto, the Tin Woodsman, and the Scarecrow as they pass through the forest before meeting the Cowardly Lion, The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum.
In Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman
whistles far and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it’s
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
the queer
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
it’s
spring
and
the
goat-footed
balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee
In Just-, e. e. cummings
According to the calendar, it’s not yet spring. The vernal equinox is still a week away; moreover, Punxsutawney Phil predicted that spring would come late this year – at least in Pennsylvania. But nobody told the telltale totems of spring who are resident in Humptulips County that it was too soon to celebrate, for they are here enjoying the weather and thumbing their noses at such an old-fashioned idea as a calendar.
I am not certain whether the robins returned in force before the daffodils bloomed, or vice versa. It may have been a dead heat, for all I know. But both are here in force. Normally, I would have expected the odd daffodil by now, but they have been blooming en masse for well over a week. But spring’s true telltale in these parts is the presence of robins. Two weeks ago a couple of intrepid scouts arrived ahead of the flock and could be seen testing the soil here and there for its worm content. The rest have now caught up. Robins can be seen everywhere down our lane searching for bugs and worms, only to fly into the nearest tree whenever we approach during our walks to wait patiently for us to pass by so that they may return to their work.
The final proof that spring has come to Humptulips County well in advance of its due date was the lone garter snake I found sunning itself in our driveway’s gravel when I took this week’s trash down to the pick up spot on the lane. Garter snakes never come before their time; snakes need the sun’s warmth to function well – or at all. So while the robins and the daffodils were strong hints that the calendar is awry this year, the little green and gold garter snake was proof. It was lying so still while basking in the sunlight that I had to look twice to recognize it. It was lucky that I took a hasty step to one side when my peripheral vision indicated something amiss in my seasonal expectations; otherwise, I fear I might have destroyed the proof.
The earliest vanguards of spring have been at work for some time, but they are nothing more than early warning systems and not proof of the concept: chorus frogs have been singing since Valentine’s Day and still soldier on in their continuing lust for life and love; the crocuses and snowdrops have bloomed and gone; many wedges of snow geese have passed low over my library’s roof over the course of several early mornings, each honking their enthusiasm about the endless possibilities awaiting them in the Valhalla of the far north; the morning mists have shed much of their winter’s bulk to become more ethereal and ephemeral; the bright yellow of our forsythia bushes has begun to dim; the morning frosts have lessened in frequency to the point where they are nothing more than winter’s occasional complaint over its dwindling control of daylight hours.
New bird species have begun to show themselves at our feeders. A varied thrush flirted with them the same day that a red breasted nuthatch joined his cousins at the trough. Yesterday, I saw a flash of bright yellow go by our sun room windows, and thought it might have been the first evening grosbeak of the year. Whatever it was proved too fast for identification, so perhaps I was overly eager in making the assumption.
I offer no excuses for my over-eagerness; I am always eager this time of year, and am proud of my feelings for they are proof that something still stirs within me at the most base levels. Spring has that effect on every living thing. What else could it possibly be about? This year, at least, I cannot be accused of being the only overly eager celebrant.
