Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Heartbreak of Spring

Maybe that’s putting it too strongly but am I the only one who feels melancholy over failed steps toward spring? I mean, really! One day it is 65 degrees and partly sunny while the very next day is gloomy drizzle with snow flurries. Two days later we have a mini spring with tulips pushing up through the soil, daffodils going crazy in garden beds, and the hint of tree buds thickening slender branches.

Then, Kapow! Sleet, rain, snow and winds pummel the neighborhood. Once green lawns are now dappled with snow and curb lines are ‘drifted’ with tiny piles of white stuff. The cars are once again salt stained and yucky.

Roadways are now wet again, then damp, then slushy, then rain and so it goes for weeks on end. Last week we had nearly seven days of gloom. And our western counterparts wonder why we are so strong! It’s because the weather is so horrid that we just persevere and that builds stamina. The Midwestern variety, of course, which means we look forward to tornado season because then we know for sure summer has arrived.

And then the Masters Golf Tournament at Augusta National. What a setting. What beautiful spring vistas of blooming gardens, flowering trees and breathtaking green lawns. Our favorite golfers are there, too, and that makes it quite social. Their talents are legendary and precision awe inspiring. And that’s coming from me, the one person who barely knows how to spell golf to say nothing of understanding any part of the game. It’s just nice to watch. Quiet and calming. Possibly nurturing of a nap?

Well then, along comes Jordan Spieth who demonstrates calm magnanimously. He marches through the course making stunning shots and controlling the leader board for days. Until he doesn’t. On the last day he stumbles and loses four points off his lead and then another point. Once up by 7 he is now down by 4. He makes a minor comeback but not enough and way too late. He loses in what will be labeled a classic clutch.

I doubt it was a clutch. I think the man was tired from carrying the tournament on his back with several golden heroes nipping at his heels. That’s enough to drain the energy out of an entire army of strong men.

But here is Jordan Spieth doing battle on his lonesome. It has to be weighty.

To be crushed late in the game in full view of the TV world makes it only worse. And as the previous year’s champion, he has to present the Green Blazer to his successor. This is more heartbreak. That it occurs in spring is not entirely by accident.

The other day we awoke to a rime of snow and ice and temps in the low 20’s. We worried that tender tree buds would be killed outright and budding flowers would be burned to extinction at the soil line.

Perhaps the best part of spring is its triumphal success in face of such diversity. After all is said and done, trees do bear leaves, flowers to bloom, and desperately brown and burned lawns leap into spring with dazzling shades of green.

But more! If one cocks one’s ears the sound of bird song astonishes. This is a miracle of spring to be sure. Just as our emotions are spent with variable miss-starts of the season, bird song reminds us we are not alone and Mother Nature provides not only the company of the birds, but their fluttering activity and gorgeous music, too.

Yes. I am a believer. In spring and its pull of human spirit into the freshness of another year of growth and yearning.

It is good.  All of it is good. But only with hindsight that knows the gift is near!

April 12, 2016


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