The Hibernating Bear That Can't Tell Time

Ah, Spring is in the air! I can tell. It's not just the sight of the returning travelers in their brightly colored plumage; It's not the lush green leaves that have poked through the mulch and the sweet smelling sunshine of the narcissus. Spring has truly arrived when my weary, late night TV, night owling can't stop my internal clock from going off at 5 a.m. every morning, frost or no.
I'm worse than a kid at Christmas. I'm the hibernating bear that can't tell time. March is not exactly the true Spring, not in Missouri; Maybe on a good year.

I've seen heavily laden branches bend under the weight of snow and ice this time other years. So, why do I start the R.E.M. confusion now? I would blame the teasingly perfect days that have unnaturally peppered our winters. Flukes, or carefully planned interruptions? They do help me maintain a semblance of sanity in the otherwise cold months. They are like that little rainbow laser beam set in motion by a random breeze on hopeful, dangling crystal prisms, putting the color back into a stark landscape for a blink. A small reminder that there is life at the end of the storm. More color than your flat plasma TV can offer with HDTV. More excitement than a Pentium 4 with broadband, more action than your Play Station, and it's free.

I have been awake for a few hours now, sitting at my desk, anxiously watching the frost fade on the waking buds and watching my cheeky guests empty the feeders I filled less than two days ago. If it were warm enough for us hard core gardeners to be out dallying, my resident pygmy lion pride would be stalking those flashes of yellow, red and blue. Instead, they flock safely outside my windows while the hunters curl up in the suspended wagons inside my garden shed that are conveniently lined with carpets and discarded bedspreads.

I've stumbled through Winter by holding onto the dream of Spring. We all have our own definition of the seasons. A lot of it has to do with your geography. For some it's the promise of earthy stains on our knees, but for Southern Californians like my sisters family, it's bikini waxes, pool parties, and 15 hour stints at Disneyland. Whatever your idea of heaven, the widening grin of the adolescent sun god will bring a youthful vigor to your step and joy to your heart.
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3/16/2005 8:0 AM