The weather around my slice of the world has been erratic recently. One day cold and windy, a couple of torrential rain days, teaser days of sunny, warmish temperatures. Outside the cozy confines of my home, my gray yard starts to come to life. Yellow daffodils swing in the wind and green shoots sprout from the brown earth.
One of the most iconic spring flora is the cherry blossoms in Washington, D.C. I have yet to view them with my own eyes, but enjoy the pictures and eagerly await the news that the trees are in bloom, for that is a harbinger of spring.
The first cherry trees were planted on March 27, 1912, by Helen Taft, wife of President William Taft. The trees were the first of over 3,000 gifted by Japan. They were planted along the Tidal Basin on the Potomac River and White House grounds. The first shipment of trees arrived two years earlier, in 1910, but the plants died of disease before reaching their destination. The second batch arrived unscathed. The first Cherry Blossom Festival, a celebration of spring and the cherry trees that symbolize the season, was held in 1934. Following World War II the United States sent trees to Japan to replace ones destroyed by American bombing during the war.
My yard is not exactly festival-worthy, although photos of my gardening prowess are lovely. When I walk out the front door I smile at the budding brightness. But then…
I think about the work ahead. I am of two minds. I look forward to sinking my hands in the dirt and transforming the earth, encouraging sprouting perennials and planting flowers. On the other hand, it is work. I am not allergic to manual labor, but my body becomes unhappy with the strain on its not-quite-in-tip-top-shape parts as I age. My back aches, my legs cramp, the exhaustion results in a drop on my couch followed by a lengthy nap.
But nature nourishes, replenishes, creates a feeling of contentment and gratitude. I look forward to outdoor activities. However, when August’s hot, humid weather appears, I balk at the great outdoors, tired of the work my garden demands. I prefer to plunge into a comfy chair on my patio, enjoy a large glass of iced tea, and get lost in a good read.
But spring season begins and I am weary of winter – the cold, the dampness, the gloomy skies and brown ground. I cannot wait to plant a colorful array of flowers and enjoy leisurely walks around town.
I am ready for change. Viva spring!
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