Spring on Wings
When you think of spring, what pops up? Daffodils, crocus, cherry blossoms? Me. too. But there is something else. Something equally joyful but insistent in the way a flower is not. It is the chorus of robins that start in around 5:30 to 6:00 am, singing with such gay abandon that it is practically impossible to stay in bed. It revs me up. Sometimes this is great, sometimes not so much.The early-bird song of the American Robin is often the first to tell us that spring is finally coming.
Though it is still dark and cold at that hour, spring has flipped a switch in their downy red breasts and they want to announce it to the world. But this celebrated symbol of spring has a mixed effect on my psyche. Yes, I'm thrilled by all that optimistic trilling in coloratura, but it also starts my heart thumping like crazy.
Quick, my body says: up and at 'em, feather your nest, plant those seeds, till that ground, for Pete's sake, get moving! Even though here in Portland we have several months of waiting for dry and friable ground in order to work the soil. What I really need to do is calm down and pace myself. Maybe putter in the greenhouse.
I don't know about you, but the pure raw energy of spring can work me into a frenzy. I guess it tweaks my desire for garden accomplishment into overdrive. Yes, you garden overachievers, you know what I'm talking about.
Susan Troccolo is the author of Growing Down Stories, personal essays of living life with humor and grace. Among Susan's many talents, she's a volunteer, a gardener and a writing instructor. She is working on her second book and lives in Portland, Oregon with her border collie and husband of thirty-five years. You can learn more about Susie by visiting her website.
Do you hear spring's early morning robin song?
