No Reservations Needed. Please Go!
An Open Invitation
Young creatures, thrilled with finally reaching the threshold of the teenage years, ignore the goosebumps and stroll down the street in this season’s short shorts – with fabric still crisp in its newness and unfaded colors deep. Slowly stretching their limbs like young lionesses, they walk. Causally glancing to see who’s observing their parade. The wind teasingly tossing their hair. As they pretend they don’t care.
The cold remedies and rigid boxes of tissues shoved over to less prominent space – rows and rows of tanning gels and sunblock lotions taking their place. Customers sniff to sample before purchasing the Hawaiian oils and coconut lotions – the heavy scents conjure up memories of hot sun, and beaches to anyone happening by.
The rites of spring vary, yet they repeat with regularity.
For 20 Years, Leon Hale and Morgan jumped in up the car and drove south from Houston towards the valley about this time of year – searching for some sign of spring. But this year, his 90th, Leon writes from his country house porch. The June bugs, he notes, have already arrived 2 months early. So it may be one of those suddenly summer years?
Beasties are dancing in Scotland with the horse chestnuts are the first to debut. Boldly flaunting their delicate spring garb: leaves such pale yellow-green – almost a whisper, a sigh – a green so new and fragile it might disappear if tossed too harshly by winter’s chilly last gasp. A celebration begins as observers watch and rejoice.
To me, it starts with a slight angle of the sun – and which windows now glow early in the morning. And the chameleons sun themselves on the window screens.
How sad so many are denied the chance to watch the natural world trumpet life this time of year.
Children bent to desks taking their tests. Fingers, meant for tickling water and grubbing in dirt, are clenched around pencils denting their skin. Tired minds just waiting for school to end.
Windowless offices are entered in darkness, and existed in exhaustion.
Even sadder that some have the opportunity, but just don’t. No breezes can tempt through closed double-paned glass. Cell phones and texting as they hurry past. Car windows rolled up as to not mess the hair. Hurrying, hurrying. Going in here and then, there.
But, nature, ever patient, ever forgiving, goes on with the show.
No reservations needed.
Already planning for next year.
Welcoming spring – hopefully, not too tritely,
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge