It's a balmy 54 degrees outside at 6:30 in the morning here on the prairie, and already we've surpassed the high average temperature by ten degrees. We have been on a string of extremely warm weather, due in part to one funky-looking jet stream. Places that are supposed to be cold are hot, and Arizona just got hammered with a huge snowstorm. Bizarre. Still, it's nice to see and feel such a beautiful stretch of sunshine.
I love springtime as well as autumn. I like the temperatures that they both offer up, which typically fall nice and comfortable between the other two seasons of extremes. I love the fall because of the colors of the leaves on the trees and the crispness that is in the air. But I think I especially love spring, with everything being reborn and starting afresh. To the plant world, it must seem like returning to the first day of school for the year, with the unblemished record, that clean blackboard that sparkles, where everything is perfect and you haven't screwed up yet.
So many signs of spring abound. Yesterday, I showed you pictures of daffodils in bloom and the buds on the lilac bush. And now we can add tree swallows to our list, swooping and darting around in the backyard, catching bugs. There's a sparrow and a starling that are attempting to build nests in the rafters of the pole barn that my husband is building. And then there's that other sure sign of spring, one which took place last night in my bathroom.
I shaved my legs.
It's really getting to the point where I ask myself why I bother shaving my legs anymore. It certainly doesn't bother me. My husband has told me repeatedly that he could care less. Really, it's senseless, as each and every year seems to bring less and less hair to shave, at least on my legs. All of the energy that my body used to put impart, growing dark clumps of curly leg hair has suddenly shifted decidedly north to the regions above my upper lip. But it's spring, and that's part of the ritual.
Yesterday I went to the pool. The water was absolutely freezing, and there were several of the gang that turned right around after dipping their big toe into the pool and went back to the locker room to abandon ship. It was THAT cold. Big Bob was in the pool, tethered to his oxygen tank, but he got out after a few minutes. All that was left was us foolhardy souls, who had to keep moving quickly in order to generate enough heat to stay reasonably warm. I know I burned a LOT of calories yesterday in that water.
I came home and spent the afternoon working on this birdhouse gourd. Last year, for the first (and last) time, I grew these things in my garden. I saved out five of the best ones, hardened them off over the winter months. And now begins the task of using steel wool to get rid of the unsightly mold that covers them. It's very difficult and tons of work to remove the unsightly spores. I tried sandpaper, but that left marks. So it's steel scrubbies and steel wool that are doing the trick. I spoke to some guy at the Philadelphia Flower Show who had a booth of finished gourds, and he said that it was a tough, laborious process. He wasn't just whistling Dixie. Anyway, the neck of my gourd is now smooth as a baby's bottom. Plucked from a pile of horse manure, covered in mold and mildew and left for dead, I hope that it will experience a springtime of its own, turning into a beautiful home to some peeping baby birds. Happy Spring, everyone!
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