Spring, stay awhile.

The other day my son Jacob was carrying in grocery bags with me. With two foot of snow still on the ground, we juggled the bags and skated on the pact down paths. “Smell that Mom?” He questioned. “What?” I said. “Fishing!” He smiled at me. “Yes Jacob I do. Though to me it smells more like gardening.” Knocking on the sliding glass door with the tip of my boot, I could feel the bags slipping from my grip. “Hurry!” I belted out loud enough for one of the other two kids to come to our rescue. Jeffrey my oldest slid the glass open and unloaded my hands that were now beautiful shades of purple and red. I always attempted to bring in an incredible amount of bags at a time limiting the amount of trips I had to take. Though it was literally insane to do.

As the 45 degree air smacked Jeffrey in the face he grinned. “Mom did you get my baseball pants yet?” “Not yet Jeff, I haven't even thought about it. When does it start?” I tried not to sound as frustrated as I was for forgetting them. “Soon, can’t you smell it?” “What?! Jake just said it smelt like fishing! That's too funny.” I Squeeze through the door and slid off my boots. “What's funny mom?” My daughter came dancing over grabbing up the bags of food and sorting them through. “Your boys just said spring smells like fishing and baseball. I think it smells like gardening. What does it smell like to you?” I asked her. “Easter!” She blurted out without a second thought. “I don't know how we are going to have an Easter egg hunt though, if some of the snow doesn't melt.” She added with a concerned look appearing on her face. “Good question! I wouldn't worry, we'll figure it out.” We finished the rest of the trips to the truck and the children ran off to do what they do.

Later that evening my husband came home. Wet, muddy and cold. Putting on some hot tea for him, I flooded him with my usual commentary as he peeled off his Lacrosse boots and Carhartts. “It was beautiful today! I went shopping and oh yeah, don't let me forget to get Jeff’s baseball pants. Can you believe it's almost time for baseball? Kayla reminded me, we have to call my mom and finalize our plans for Easter. Jake –“ He suddenly cut me off. “Babe! Stop, you gotta wait. I'm cold, wet and muddy. The days are getting longer and everything is mud. Everywhere I went today was a trial not to get stuck. Even with the track machine. I'm going to take a hot shower.” He turned and headed towards the bathroom. “I really can't wait for this time of year to pass. It smells terrible. The only thing good about spring is turkey season.” He mumbled to himself as he made his way down the hall.

As miserable as he was I couldn't help but grin. The many smells of change. I’d never really thought about it like that. Each of us relate to the melting snow so differently. I buy seeds and soil to start my plants for the garden, so that we have a bountiful year. Jacob can't wait to toss a ball into the crisp pond and study his bobber. Jeffrey has the excitement of grand slams and competition coursing through his veins. My daughter anticipates family and eggs colored all different colors of the rainbow, littered across the yard. With all this happiness, my hard working husband can't wait for lightning bugs and summer heat, and I don't blame him, after all he works outside.  

I know that it seems like it’s been one of the longest, harshest winters, but as far as I am concerned, it can take its time. It comes and goes so fast sometimes I swear that I’m beginning to loose time. It’s like, one day I hear the peepers chirping hello to spring and the next day the locusts are screaming their summer goodbyes. “So welcome back Spring, plant your flowers, get some hot tea, sit with me, lets watch your colors bloom, and please, stay a while.”

Barefoot...

Take me to a place where needs are melon void. Where trees swallow my attention and dirt cuddles with my toes. I want to run threw a meadow to find a creek, and splash like a child, searching for treasure. I want to chase a dragonfly that danced by my shoulder, down into a valley blessed with black eyed suzie’s. Though we spook grazing deer, they do not run, just watch. As I would breath deep and smile, lying on my back, allowing the sun to cradle me in its arms. I wish this moment could take my hand and guide me to this peace every time I close my eyes.

My Place

Of all of the places, in all of the world, I would like to take you to a field. It is a place that completes me. As a child I ran and grew with the wild milk weed at my side. Heated by the sun, and warm with love; This breathless landscape was sown together with morning glories; black eyed Suzie’s and Queen Ann’s lace.

            The beautiful smells of strawberries, blackberries and raspberries would tickle at my belly. The sounds of the poplar trees flirting with the wind would make me feel safe. Everything was always okay as long as their leaves sang gently into my ears. Over their whispers I could hear the buzz of locus and the soft “who” of the morning doves searching for love.

            Depending on the flowers, which were in bloom, I knew if the summer was slipping from my fingers and falling asleep in the autumn breeze. When the mustard plants grew tall and milk weed bloomed like little corn husks, the fire flies disperse, I begin to sadden. Then at that moment, more than ever, I would urn for the smell of apple blossoms and lilacs. Returning my thoughts of spring. They encircle this perfect spot like a picture frame, holding my memories for eternity. These amazing trees strong and tall, bared the fruits that filled my creativity.

            It is amazing how a square of weeds can raise a child up to respect life and to love unconditionally. Such a cherished place shall never go to waste. I now as an adult with my family live here. I built my dream where it all began. I will now and forever grow with the ever changing seasons. My family and I will blossom with the spring and sleep with the fall, making jam with its berries and pies with its apples. We will feed our hearts and souls until one day, at Gods call, we return to its rich soil.