Still awaiting our season of spring
We’ve written verse,
Some good, some worse,
Of singing men and frogs.
We’ve written ’bout the angel choirs
In many monologues.
Now that it’s spring,
We thought we’d sing,
A song of bright new promise,
Of fertile rains, and growing pains,
With summer ‘most upon us.
As seasons come and seasons go,
And all of us grow older,
It doesn’t help to shed our tears
On one anothers’ shoulder.
If daffodils in April can find
Joy within the ground,
And laugh with sunny faces
To delight in what they’ve found,
Don’t be outdone by blossomed weeds,
Distracted by imagined needs.
Be glad to be alive in spring.
Have love for every living thing.
Take pleasure just to breathe the air.
For joy in life is everywhere,
When springtime sends her warming sun,
To open buds in everyone.
Many years ago I wrote the above verse with the title, “It’s Spring Again.” With the first flowers which have been sleeping in the ground all winter, and are now peeping out to gain our attention, I thought this might be a good time to share it with you.
Spring always seems to be so hesitant here in upstate. That is because we have been indoctrinated to expect it earlier than we do. We’ve been brainwashed by songs like the one by Al Jolson which says “Though April showers may come your way, They bring the flowers that bloom in May.”
We’ve been led to think that March brings winds, April showers and May the spring flowers. Actually that’s a bit south of us. Here in New York we should accustom ourselves to realize that here, April is windy, May is rainy and the June flowers make up for it all. Everything here is about three or four weeks behind the states to our immediate south.
Years ago my company, on several occasions, sent me to spend a week at RCA in The Meadowland’s, just outside of Cherry Hill, N.J., for an instruction and indoctrination on some new electronic equipment from RCA. Once I left here about April 10, and the trees had yet to show new spring buds. When I got to Cherry Hill, the trees were all in full leaf. I think it helped that Jersey was somewhat modified, by being much closer to the ocean. I must tell you that In Cherry Hill, there was a very elegant, Italian restaurant that served the best spaghetti dinner ever. I never missed going there.
Early in my retirement, my wife and I usually spent January, February and March at Del Lago, a golf course on Lake Conroe, on the north side of Huston, Texas. One of our sons at the time was employed in Huston. There the trees began sprouting their leaves in February. They didn’t have much of a winter. We probably went there for three or four years, and I recall seeing a freezing rain just once. Everything was closed for a day because of icy roads. I guess we live in a large country. May God bless America.
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