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Spring, Summer, or Winter?
by LaVonne Boruk
My calendar says Spring is here, but I am undecided. Sometime I think it's summer when the temperature in my neck of the woods goes up in the 80's, and it still hasn't cooled off by nightfall. I take the blanket off the bed, turn the air conditioner on, set out the tomato plants in the garden.
Then the next day it's down in the 20's Fahrenheit. I put the blanket back on the bed, turn the air conditioner off and the furnace on again. The tomato plants die. His nibs put out new plants a day or two ago. It's cool today. The weather is so unpredictable these days.
Dogwoods and azaleas are blooming. Easter has come and gone. So it must be Spring. One lonely little tulip outside my kitchen window is blooming; the rest aren't, as if the weather hasn't been cold enough for them yet. They require a certain number of cold days in order to bloom, I'm told. But if that is so, then the one that is blooming must not have gotten the message. And if not, then why aren't the rest blooming? Contrary little things, aren't they.
Pansies bloomed all winter. But, was it really winter? I'm not sure. Pansies love the cold weather, but when the hot weather gets here they up and die. Poor little things can't decide which way to go today, though. One day of hot weather followed by a day of cold weather keeps them in perpetual confusion. Even the mandevillas can't decide whether to come out of dormancy or not. They send out their tentative little sprouts, testing the waters, then pull them back in when they decide it's too cold yet for their little toes and fingers. Maybe a pair of shoes and mittens would help. No, they like the sun, but the sun is hidden in the haze today.
My neighbor's wisteria is in full bloom. It's a beautiful plant, but unfortunately, it has almost choked the life out of the ancient oak tree in his yard. Such a pretty old oak tree once, after more than thirty years of choking it's losing its limbs to gangrene. One of these days it's apt to give up and fall down in a strong wind. It could demolish both our houses, too. Still, he tries to save it, by neglect. But it's too late. It's almost dead, it's trunk is hollow, there are many large dead limbs that never sprout new leaves. If only he had contained the wisteria from the start... Well, that's a whole other story.
His nibs offered once to pay half of the cost of taking the tree down and he agreed, but his wife didn't want to lose the tree. So it still stands, barely. One of these days he may have to pay the cost of rebuilding two houses because of his neglect. Not a happy prospect. And I hate to think of what else could happen. After all there are people living in the two houses, at least there were until they decided to move out. Spring storms can be fierce, and if that is not enough, summer storms can be even worse. We sometimes feel like we may be living on borrowed time.
©1999 LaVonne Boruk
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