Whenever that is. Technically, Spring begins on the day of the Spring equinox, usually March 21st. But around here, it’s already Spring…but not Spring enough. Like Spring everywhere, the temperature is very variable, and can’t make up its mind about whether it wants to be warm or cold.
When I lived in Iowa, I once went to…Home Depot? In March. I said to the guy at the counter, You don’t have any tomato plants for sale. He said, You aren’t from around here, are you? We don’t sell those until May. Of course, his first clue was probably the Southern accent.
Then, as in now, I want Spring to hurry up and get here. I’ve started to seriously long for the late afternoons and early evenings after work, when I can sit at my beloved little picnic table in the back yard until it’s dark, and read. I at least try to stay out until dusk, when I might see bats. I love watching the forest behind my house, seeing it turn from lime green to dark green; seeing and hearing the birds; watching the sun set. Sometimes I stay out so late that it’s hard to find my way back to the house. Sure, I know the right direction to go…it’s that the ground is very uneven because the Doberman (RIP) dug so many holes in it.
This year I’ll have to be even more careful since I broke my leg. I expect my left ankle to be very weak, and I can’t afford to step in a hole. I’m going to have to invest in a good flashlight, and not stay out so late.
The downside of being at the picnic table in spring is that I have to share it with a lot of insects. Spiders, ants, caterpillars, carpenter bees, mosquitos, and some sort of nameless thing that bites, to name a few. As for mosquitos–I have that covered. Me and Cutter are BFF’s. None of the other critters seem to be impressed by my friend Cutter.
I really can’t overemphasize how important it is to me to be able to come home and sit at my picnic table. For one thing, it’s decompression. My whole work life is in the public eye, which has both its good and bad points. Many times it’s very fun…I get to see and meet funny and amazing people. Then there are the bad points, where I have to do bad things like…threaten to call the police (and sometimes actually do it), or correct an employee. Shockingly, employees rarely respond with “You’re entirely right”. But even the good times are stressful to an extent, because you never know which kind of encounter you’re going to have. Ergo, decompression. Me, by myself, recovering peace and equilibrium.
But a bigger part, I think, is that I need sun and warmth. In other words, I’m pretty sure I have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). And what a great acronym is that? I can tell you that the day Daylight Saving Time ends in November is the worst day of my life, every year. I am instantly depressed and look at December and January as an ordeal that must be endured. February is fine…because if it isn’t already Spring, then you can see the light at the end of the tunnel.