February is playing tricks on me.
This morning, I could have sworn spring arrived. When I left for another day at the office, it was 56 degrees outside, early in the a.m.
Last night, we endured rain instead of snow, lightning made an electrifying appearance and thunder roared all around us like a ravenous lion. As a child, I remember cheering boisterously at school when it thundered this time of the year because our teacher informed us those rumbling booms ushered in spring.
Hooray! My mind applauded this morning at the mere thought of spring time making its grand appearance. So convinced about the arrival of the season, I wanted to recite the old childhood rhyme: “Spring has sprung, the grass is riz. I wonder where the posies is.”
Matter of fact, my brain persuaded me that I smelled earthworms, something I always associate with that “after the rain” aroma of the spring season, when I left my house.
Alas, the temperature dropped all day – it’s now 28 degrees – and the atmosphere’s still gloomy and glum while a cold wintry-like wind bites into me. This morning, I felt certain I would discover little harbingers of spring breaking the soil’s surface around my house, but reality reveals not one sign of our perky crocuses yet.
I’m suffering from color deprivation here! I need “sunshine, lollipops and rainbows!” I’m tired of the cheerless, dingy landscape outside my window. I need the hope and happiness of which the spring season reminds us. Like the late minister Virgil A. Kraft once said, “Spring shows what God can do with a drab and dirty world.” Can I get an “Amen” to that?
I desperately desire to behold perfectly pert purple crocuses, sunshiny yellow yawning daffodils and robust red rambunctious tulips popping up in my front yard. I yearn to yield to the fabulous fragrance of a profusion of prolific pink hyacinths, lavishly lovely lavender lilacs and diminutive dainty delights of white nestled in lily of the valley greenery.
I need spring! I need warmth. I need blue skies and sunshine. I need green grass and an array of colorful flowers. I need budding and blossoming trees. Heck, let’s throw in some rainbows too!
Author Paul Fleischman wrote in his book, Seedfolks: “You can’t see Canada across Lake Erie, but you know it’s there. It’s the same with spring. You have to have faith, especially in Cleveland.”
Fleischman’s right and not just in Cleveland! In my neck of the woods today, I must have faith that spring is coming.
So that’s what I’m latching onto on this last page in Chapter Two in my book of Opportunity. Goodbye February, hello March! I know you’re bringing us one step closer to Spring.