When I think about what to write, I try to find things that are clever and a bit off-center. Not this time. I’m taking what the world is giving me. It’s spring. I’m going to write about that. It’s a fastball down the middle.
The like-a-miracle quality is multiplied this year coming out of one of the most relentless winters in our lifetimes. Let’s take a moment to congratulate ourselves. We did it. If you didn’t bang yourself up slipping on the ice or pull something shoveling snow, extra kudos to you.
We spent a couple weeks in a warm place this winter. It felt a little like cheating. I knew in my brain that it’s possible to leave winter. But my body was confused. When I stepped outside in Tucson, I instinctively pulled my coat collar up to my chin.
Otherwise, your neck gets cold, right?
As I write, remnants of snowpack on the north side of buildings are all that’s left. Winter was so oppressive, that one could almost forget the Earth was underneath all the snowy ice and icy snow. Now, there is a green tint to the landscape, a color that left us five months ago. There are shoots of plants poking toward the sun. Tree buds are imminent.
Every spring, each of us notes these “firsts:” the first time the sun is warmer than the cold air on our face, the first time we leave our coat in the house, the first time we walk across the yard without mincing shuffle steps.
If you spend time outside in the spring, you will have front row tickets to the most wonderful production. Nature in all its elements is jumping to the attention of the returning sun. So much is going on between the birds, the plants, and the critters.
They all know instinctively what humans learn with calendars: the growing season is short this far north, winter will come back, and they better get things done. That means a flurry of activity as everything sprouts, eats, breeds, and bears young, knowing those all must be done in the few months before the tilt of the Earth shifts again.
There’s a lot of reproducing going on out there. That’s exciting, almost salacious. It’s a very frisky time.
Part of ensuring the survival of the species and passing down genes is a struggle for place. Birds and animals stake out territories. In some cases, that leads to clashes between critters wanting not to share a space. Some of what we know as beautiful bird song is the male of the species announcing, “I’m here! This is my tree! Don’t even think about coming near me!”
Meanwhile he is also attempting to make himself desirable to girl birds. It’s the feathered equivalent of certain stupid guy behaviors in bars. We would hope human males would take advantage of a larger brain than that of a bird. Alas, that is not always the case.
We don’t think of plants seeking territory, but the same phenomenon is taking place there. Every shoot of grass and broadleaf wants room for sun and nutrients. It’s a struggle, albeit one in slow-motion. Trees play the long game. Given an opening in the canopy, a tree will push a branch into it over several seasons. All for the sake of sun to create chlorophyll in the hope of creating more seeds.
If you are a farmer or gardener, you get to play a part in this annual drama. Timing is everything. Peas and radishes need to go in early enough to ripen ahead of summer heat. Tomatoes and peppers go in just after the threat of frost is past. That’s not always easy to know.
My own corn and soybeans need a full northern growing season to maximize yield/bushels. If planting is delayed, and that is not uncommon, you dial back the maturities and your expectations. The 107-day maturity corn you plant in April has all kinds of more potential than the 85-day corn you plant in late May. Same for your 2.3 maturity soybeans vs. your 1.1 maturity in June. If that sounds like jargon, ask a farmer.
There comes pressure with that. If conditions are good and equipment is cooperating, it is the most exhilarating time of year. Nothing feels better than planting seed in a good seedbed when the calendar says “go.” Nothing is worse than planting in lousy conditions when optimal dates are receding. That is stress defined if you are a farmer.
After a winter of lounging in the house on long, cold nights, spring is a wakeup call with Reveille blowing. Time feels compressed, like too much to do in too short of time. We’ll see which kind of spring 2023 gives us.
Regardless of the work, it behooves us to enjoy this all. Spring presents us these glorious moments, but we must let ourselves be in them. That sensation of the sun on our face after an insufferably long winter? We have to allow ourselves time to savor that.
Of course, there are problems. Health, finances, relationships, and a hundred more are there for us to dwell on every day. But it’s spring. Give yourself a few moments away from those to feel the warm breeze.
Spring is a gift. The Creator didn’t have to make this all so pleasant and alluring. The number of springs in our lifetimes are not unlimited either. We only get so many. It’s going to happen whether we’re paying attention or not. We might as well live in the miracle.