When I came
back from a Saturday afternoon walk, I discovered tulips poking through
the soil next to the front porch. I hadn't noticed when I went out the
door. I'd forgotten I had tulips.
To me,
that's the nature of spring. We all know it's coming and sometimes it
can't come soon enough for us, but the early signs usually catch me by
surprise.
The other
day as I walked downtown, I turned back for a second look at fuzzy growths
on branches near the sidewalk. The whole tree was full of them. In my
mind, I could almost see the flowers that come later. The current fuzzy
stage is subdued in color, but the signs of spring are as clear as can be.
Across the
street, at a place where flowers always bloom early — and sometimes get
covered with snow later — the green shoots were several inches tall
already.
A 50-degree
day brought more signs of spring, and having the warmth on a weekend
helped the process.
For one
thing, people came outside. In the winter, neighborhoods are full of
houses like closed boxes. Sometimes there are few signs of life beyond the
smoke puffing from the chimneys. Likewise, on the roads the vehicles go by
with a little smoke coming out and people closed up inside.
Then one day
it's suddenly warmer. A toddler emerges next door to play with an
assortment of colored balls. Older children get together for a backyard
game. Adults appear, too, trimming branches and cleaning up their yards.
Young people walk along the sidewalks in groups of two or three as young
people do. Train travelers come out of the station to wait for their ride.
Even after most of the downtown stores have closed, a few people stroll
around the square, and a youngster riding high on parental shoulders views
the surroundings in a town that prides itself in past connections with
someone tall.
I hadn't
really looked around downtown myself for a while. It used to be a routine
destination, but my walk had its spring surprises. New paint jobs started
me playing with words, wondering if paint makes an older building quaint.
I reviewed business changes — desks inside where there used to be
clothes, loans where there used to be pizza. I started to feel like a
visitor in a tourist town, such as those with a Swiss theme or Norwegian,
according to their heritage.
I saw the
empty storefronts, but in some it looked as though people had been
cleaning up inside. It's the same way with spring outside. The ground is
mostly bare and waiting. The surprise is what happens next.
That was
also the story 10 years ago when I celebrated early spring with an unusual
Friday evening trip out of town. A professional dance company performed in
Springfield, and the final number on the program was "Appalachian
Spring." I think the price was the most I ever spent to attend a
performance, and I did enjoy it. True to the essence of spring, though,
the evening took second place to the next surprise. I got an unexpected
invitation the following afternoon to another event, a sociable time with
old friends and new.
I might not
have thought of those experiences except that I’d stumbled into spring
this year much like papers tumbling in the wind. I knew it was happening,
but it was too late to catch myself. My head was too far forward and my
feet were too far back. Less nimble in such maneuvers than the Martha
Graham dancers, I went home with skinned knees, just like a kid again.
Since one
knee turned out to be more bruised than skinned, I decided to be more
gentle with it than I was at first, and that’s how it happened that I
settled on walking around town instead of my usual activities for a
50-degree Saturday. That way I took enough time to see the tulips coming
up right beside the front door.
We'll see what happens next.
When it’s spring, there are always surprises.
[Mary
Krallmann]
