Summer has come, where was spring?

Yesterday it was 86 degrees with nary a cloud in the sky, sun beating down and the smell of flowers and barbecue permeating the air. This year it went from a cold 60 with slanting rain to the beautiful weekend just past, with hardly a moderate day in between.

Now, this could all be explained away as a normal variation. Some years are just like this, have been forever. Some years the spring comes early and lingers late and people start to complain that summer never comes. Just like all the tornadoes ripping through the center of the country. Some years there are just a lot of tornadoes.

It could also explain why we've had such massive and destructive storms in recent years - Katrina, Sandy, to name two. Big storms do come around occasionally.

And then there was the story in the news today that officials in the Marshall Islands had discovered the remains of some 15 Japanese soldiers from World War II. Their shallow graves had been destroyed by ocean waters that were 8 cm higher that just a few years ago on an archipelago where the highest point is only 2 meters above sea level.

One or two of these could be coincidence, could be the normal variation of nature over time. But all of them and more in the past ten years? Maybe not.

Let me know what you think! Comments (polite ones!) are always welcome.

Think Out Loud - Forsythia

Saturday I took a walk around the neighborhood and, despite the bright sun and the warming temperatures (about 45 degrees at 7:30 am), the landscape was still pretty barren - the trees were still leafless, the planters still empty, the lawns still the brown-green of dormant grass. It was like none of the plants believed the winter was done.

Sunday I took a similar walk, at a similar time. But on this walk I started to notice the forsythia, which makes up a hedge by many houses and roadsides in my area, were yellow with blossoms. Then I saw an ornamental cherry, suddenly heavy with pink and white flowers. As I made a turn I was brought face to face with a dogwood whose big blooms were on full display. None had been there the day before.

I could feel an extra bounce in my step, just from the bright demonstration of rejuvenation and renewal. It struck me, on Sunday as I contemplated the tale of two days, how quickly things can change. The birds had been singing more strongly each day since the last snowfall but only now did I believe, like the plants, that spring was here.

Spring Sky

Spring has come;

There are buds on the lilacs

The sun no longer is its weak

Winter self.

But the sky, the sky

This spring night

Harkens back to the winter.

Cold air gives a sharpness

The scarcity of clouds

An open vista

To thousands, nay, millions

Of tiny twinkling pinpricks.

Just a Poem Before I Go

Bonus points to the obscure song reference!

It IS National Poetry Month. All three of these reflect my feelings today as I searched for signs of the spring. Still no buds on the trees but the crocuses are finally bursting forth and there are patches where the grass is starting to grow again, a darker green in the brown-green seas.

Solstice Moon

The moon looms just over the horizon

Bright and huge behind a gauzy mist

Higher, irregular puff balls skid past

Illuminated below in cold white-yellow

Fading to dark gray barely separable

From the inky black zenith sky.

Haiku

Silent sentinels

Watching over white fields

Through the long winter

Sentinels

Talk, black, silent sentinels

Their scores of branches

Reaching into the brightening

Blue-white sky

Coated in a white mantle

From the first wet snowfall.

They bear witness to the bustle

Of a commercial season;

To the commuters cursing,

Sliding on the ice, driving

Too fast for safety

Too slow for their own impatience.

Oak, maple, elm, sycamore

Virtually indistinguishable

From one another,

Shorn of their canopies.

Swaying gently, hosting  a few

Diehard birds singing a cold song.

All through the short days

They will rest and watch

Until the rising sun is warmer;

Its light is brighter;

Then, as the crocuses burst

Will they stir back to glory.

Think Out Loud - Spring

Spring seems to have finally arrived in the U.S. East Coast. This after a winter that most people have complained was both long and harsh.

Curiously, at the start of this winter, right after Christmas, I wrote the following:

It Almost Feels Like Winter

It almost feels like winter
The wind howling 'round
The temps rising up to 30
With flurries coming down.

It almost looks like winter
The sun's rays are so weak
Bare trees cast odd shadows
As the clouds passing by do sneak.

It almost feels like winter
You need your gloves and hat
The weatherman speaks of wind chill
Maybe nudge the thermostat.

It almost feels like winter
But in my mind's eye
It holds no candle to the memory
Of winters long gone by.

So little snow, no sledding
Or igloos, forts, snowballs
Perhaps it's all idealized
A figment of mental thralls.

Regardless of its factuality
I miss it all the same
I love the snow in wintertime
Without, it all seems too tame.

But, I agree with "most people" that it ended up to be a comparatively long, harsh winter. In March, desperate to be positive, I wrote this:

Almost Spring

The clouds can’t decide

Thin, fair-weather cirrus,

Low, scudding gray nimbus,

Towering puffs of cumulus,

Following one after the other.

The air can’t decide

Frost one clear sunny morning,

Warm fog the next;

Icy wind one evening,

Calm, almost balmy, the next.

The sun can’t decide

Bright and comfortable

Or thin and distant,

Obscured by overcast

Or burning the overcast away.

But the animals have decided.

The birds twitter merrily,

The squirrels chirp and scold.

Tabby cat begs to go out.

Spring is coming; almost here.

I love the transition, relish the change. I was happy to have winter and am happy to see it go. Here's to spring, to change, and the ever hopeful possibilities they bring.

(both of the above have recently been published in my collection Moments, available on Smashwords.com for all of April for 99 cents.

Think Out Load - Appreciating Spring

This is a very interesting concept meme.

One recurring thought, as the "worst" winter in many years hangs on in the American Northeast, is

Won't we appreciate spring more when it actually does come?

This was emphasized to me when I heard the Passenger song, Let Her Go.

Now, I like snow. I like the cold. I like the clear air after a snowstorm passes through. I like the sound of the howling wind on a dark night. But I also like finding the first brave flower of spring. Watching for the songbirds return from their winter exile. Seeing the trees burst out in new leaves. Feeling the warmth of a spring day. I cherish the changes.

So this spring, maybe, I'll have company in appreciating L'Differance! At least a little more than usual.

Haiku for Spring

Spring has finally sprung here in New York. Some structured word pictures of the scenes and emotions of spring. Any and all comments appreciated and welcome!

Tiny wren flitters
Singing inside the bushes
Happy to see spring

Crocuses poke through
Stubborn edges of grey snow
Heralding warm days

The sky seems lighter
The wind and rain seem softer
As the days lengthen

Reverie broken
By sudden northern cold snaps
Which soon moderate

Bright morning, dry, clear
Afternoon showers, quick, wet
Then dry cool evening

Lark greets early dawn
Excited, singing brightly
Exalting the spring

Dove mourns passing night
As sun rises promising
Warmth, growth, spring flowers


Also check out Haiku Hoopla for interviews and samplings from established haiku poets.

Spring Poems

The geraniums (and a lone kalanchoe) were my winter gardening project. Enjoy the poems. Leave a comment on your emotions with the arrival, sometimes with clinging tendrils of winter, of the spring season.

Spring is Coming

This morning I went out
To fetch the paper by the road
And greeting me
High in a tree
Was a cardinal
All decked in red.
He sang to me
That sunny morn
Of coming spring
Warm and bright
Of crocuses coming
Through melting snow.
When his song was done
Another voice came lifting
The whippoorwill was
Down the street.
Wip-poor-poor-will
Came the call,
Greet the day now dawning
Heed the cardinal
The snow is going
Spring is soon arriving!

Spring Not Yet

The spring dark descends quickly

Bringing a breeze that will be warm

When the summer arrives but now

Is cool, almost cold, reflecting

Winter just recently receded.

The day was bright but likewise

Cooler than the sunlight suggested,

With puffy cumulus first bunching

Then separating, tantalizing.

Even the trees and bushes tease.

One imagines the buds bursting

Into the sunlight, only to be

Disappointed on closer inspection.

Soon, but not yet.

 

Spring Sky

Spring has come;

There are buds on the lilacs

The sun no longer is its weak

Winter self.

But the sky, the sky

This spring night

Harkens back to the winter.

Cold air gives a sharpness

The scarcity of clouds

An open vista

To thousands, nay, millions

Of tiny twinkling pinpricks.

 

Feature and Follow - Reading Outside

 

I read outside only rarely, mostly because by the time I am settled into reading the mosquitoes are out (in the summer) or it's 20 degrees out (winter). I.e. it is late at night.

When I do, I like to cozy up in the shade, on the grass under a tree, on a chair, or even just back to a wall. I do enjoy it, especially if there is a soft breeze and the sun is out. 

I actually spend more time writing outside than reading, mostly in short bursts as I wait for the next event or am picking up from an activity.

What about you?