Feel the Passion

Tonight I can feel a burn in my muscles and on my skin. I "farmed" off and on all week and spent all day outside today. Off course there is more to do, but for now I am happy with the progress I have made.

Spring is definitely here. Nights are already a bit warmer and our monsoon season has passed. We may have a few more sprinkles before the last of our rains, but by and large we can't expect more until next winter. Since we won't have rain, our irrigation system is crucial. Our former gardener helped me with it on Monday, but it needs more work. I've never had the patience to try to figure out how to fix the problems - until now. I am determined that I will learn how to make the repairs myself. I don't need a new project - but I don't like to be at the mercy of others. So... we'll see. I'll report. I should add that I am constantly trying to reduce the amount of water we use. Hopefully the front landscaping will need water for just another six months. All the plants are native and after they are established will survive on winter rains.

And since spring has arrived and it is on my mind, I'll share an essay I wrote years ago. My daughter said I would change my mind and that after I lived here a while I would feel California springs. Well, I do. And I enjoy spring here. I do notice more flowers blooming and I do feel the thrill of it. But....it's still not like spring in South Carolina.

So here's "Feel the Passion:"

Ah! Spring! My early ones in South Carolina meant shedding the dreaded undershirts we wore in winter and making pretty dresses for Easter. In our finery we lined up in front of the azaleas for Mother to take pictures of Weeza, Margaret, and me. Spring meant finding vinegar scented Easter eggs hiding in the already green clumps of grass. Of course it also meant jellybeans in baskets and the revival we all feel that time of year. We could soon look forward to outdoor picnics and cook outs, trips to the beach, and the scorching days of summer. Spring breezes swiftly propelled us into warm days that soon turned hot. Most of all, it meant flowers with their fragrance and giant bursts of color that transformed our landscape into a fairyland.

As a teenager, I spent my favorite spring afternoons walking through Timrod Park with Patty Ruth and snapping pictures of the incomparable azaleas and dogwood. Sometimes spring meant rides along the Florence beauty trail with Mother or my friend, Linda, and later, boys. Each year bright yellow flowers splashed our beds as the daffodils and forsythia popped open. Redbuds turned our world rosy, and the dogwood blossomed to add a shimmery effect to it all. I remember rocking on our front porch with our old tabby, Taffy, just trying to take in the warmth, fragrance, and beauty of it all. You see, South Carolina does spring right - with passion.

Maybe you don’t know that if you have always been there. If you have left for a time or moved there with unsuspecting eyes, you know it. One recent year in Florence, my friend, Naomi, and I remarked that it certainly must be the finest spring our Creator had ever presented. Yet we knew some who didn’t seem to notice. How could that be? We were broadsided every time we walked out the door.

Well let’s compare. Spring in Wisconsin means that in two months the snow will melt, finally, to reveal lush greenery at the end of May. Why when we celebrated the Vernal Equinox there, we could count on another month of cross-country skiing along the trails behind our house. While we shivered in that climate, Mother enjoyed taunting me with photos of her gardens in full bloom. Agony!

Naomi says spring in Ohio means you wear heavy winter coats over Easter dresses and emerge from all your wraps like butterflies from cocoons. Because you refuse to wear big snow boots, spring means melting rock salt stains on patent leather shoes. Nothing there, according to her, resembles spring until the lilacs and peonies bloom in June. “By then,” she says, “they are so tired of holding their breath all winter, they manage to last only two weeks, for heaven sakes.”

Spring in south Florida comes gradually. Already warm days become a little warmer, and year round flowers continue to bloom. Though you know hot days are on the way, the passage is almost unnoticed. Spring in Indiana means the last frost date will arrive soon, and seeds can be sewn in a month or so. Pretty tulips pop up, and a few dogwood bloom, but Indiana just doesn’t provide much display. One April my friend, Mary, invited me to look for wildflowers sure to be blooming in the woods along the back roads of Brown County. A whole group of friends donned warm jackets to walk, with great anticipation, down the wooded paths. What! Is this what we traveled an hour to see? With tentative faces and just bits of color, tiny little flowers peaked from the undergrowth. I had to laugh. If you are from South Carolina, that is not spring.

In California, spring comes in quietly, almost unannounced. It means the days will be drier and the nights warmer, but, all in all, one might have trouble knowing the season has changed.

Spring should not limp in, it needs to come in with a showy vengeance and make my heart leap with the thrill of it. It does that in South Carolina. Step outside. Take a deep breath. Look around, experience the wonder with new eyes and feel the passion of your spring.