SPRING FEVER

In early March, usually a good month before purple crocuses broke into bloom along our front walk in New Jersey, sometimes even when a crusty layer of snow still carpeted the grey lawn, Mom would go out and snip branches of forsythia which, when fully in bloom, is the surest and sweetest sign that Spring has sprung

Weary of winter and hoping to advance that agenda, Mom always “forced” the clipped forsythia to blossom weeks ahead of its time by soaking the lifeless twigs in warm water, then placing them in a tall crystal vase which she set on a sunny windowsill.

Charles Dickens proved so correct when he wrote, “Spring is the time of year when it’s summer in the sun and winter in the shade,” because within days of basking in March’s afternoon warmth, those spindly branches flexed their muscles and sprouted green leaves. Before long, little buds actually ripened into yolk-yellow flowers. 

“Pure joy,” is how Anne Morrow Lindberg describes forsythia. And growing up, I knew that no matter how harsh March winds howled, there was an inkling of the approaching new season right there in our living room, thanks to Mom. No more black golashes and itchy wool snow pants! Yay!

So yesterday … like mother, like daughter … I grabbed my Fiskars, pulled on my Bean boots and clomped through the foot-high snow to the  forsythia patch out back here in the Wells woods. They looked skimpy and tired. Their languid branches literally shivered in the cool midday temperature. I wondered if Mom’s trick would work.

After soaking the newly-clipped branches in warm water, I placed the vase on a sill in the sunniest spot in our house. Since then I’ve tiptoed by every 10 minutes like a helicopter mother spying on the math tutor. Bloom, baby, bloom!

“March winds are the opening yawn of Spring,” author Lewis Grizard wrote. Mark Twain added, “In the Spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours.” Naturalist John Hanson Mitchell opined, “Perhaps nothing is more welcome than the brief season that falls between early March and mid-April. It is then that the first scents of moist earth occur, and it is then, even in the far north, that a definite change in the nature of sunlight can be sensed. This first release from the prison of winter has a way of drawing people out of doors into yards and onto porches.”

For sure, and especially here in Maine. The other day a guy I know walked into the post office wearing cargo shorts and a tee shirt, eschewing his usual attire of blue-and-green flannel pajama bottoms topped by a Patriot’s sweatshirt. Thanks to Daylight Savings Time, I sit and knit in our den late into the afternoon without turning on a light. 

Okay, Spring fever is not exactly coming in HOT.  And I’m aware of the adage: “Once forsythia blooms, three more snowfalls will follow before winter truly ends.” But hope Springs eternal!