I stumbled upon an old post I wrote exactly five years ago when someone tweeted it for spring the other day. Stirred up some springish goodness, so here. An excerpt:

It feels like Spring here. Like Warm and Cool have exchanged vows in a beautiful blue-skied ceremony and have brought forth a love child who dwells right here, right now. She is splendid, this love child, and she brings with her breezes that send our curtains fluttering and call the babies outside.

And since most of the country still has a snowy hump to summit before surveying blue skies and blooming crocus, I will bring you Spring. I’m a good sharer, so you can have some of ours.

I remember two main times in my life when I think of Spring. One was about seven years old. I remember our neighborhood, the kids who thought 55 degrees meant shorts and jelly shoes and the adults who washed their cars in their driveway when you could still see your breath. I remember picking out Easter dresses, new white tights and black patent leather shoes I’d lose a week later.

The other memories are much clearer as it was more recent. I lived with my grandparents when I attended college. In a small blue house on Dorothy Lane in a town known for two things–its Free Methodist church and its Free Methodist college. The juxtaposition of a young girl trying to find her place in the world living with her eighty-some-year-old grandparents very secure with theirs was interesting and made for a very enlightening, nostalgic and sculpting-of-the-soul experience. Regardless, I’ll never forget a Spring Arbor, Michigan Spring. How the amaryllis my dad gave my grandma every Christmas finally bloomed and how my grandma would call him up to tell him. How snow melting off the deck swing meant it was time to tidy up, pull the grill out, place pads on outdoor chairs. I remember bright yellow forsythia blooms were the first to show their colors against the gray leftovers of winter and how they signaled yard work and longer walks with Koko, the one-eyed cocker spaniel. Spring meant a good cleaning–the smell of Barkeeper’s Friend, a glossy finish on the gold linoleum, a switch-out of grandkids’ pictures in frames. Spring meant I’d attempt to clean all the crap that had multiplied over winter in the back seat of my teal Ford Escort wagon with the duct-taped fender, a.k.a. “The Staysh”, because it was the one thing I owned and cleaning it gave me a sense of control even though it didn’t really matter if it was clean or not.

And now, I merge the past with the present in my love of Spring. I plan my girls’ Easter dresses, search out some good jelly shoes, and slip a can of Barkeeper’s Friend in my grocery cart…for old time’s sake.

Insert spring goodness I was enjoying five years ago. Which brings me to a few things: What did I do with those clogs? I miss my bike. I need to bake something. Easter gloves are everything. BABY NELLA!

These seasonal mood cycles are predictable now. I could write that same paragraph today, inspired by fluttering curtains, Easter dress dreams and memories of fresh mopped linoleum floors. Pastel seersucker is on its way, and spring cleaning is in the works. In the meantime, we’ve been enjoying…

Beach dates with our pals.
We go right from the school parking lot to the nearest sand and stay until dinner time. And we say “Let’s do this more often” while we watch little footprints get washed away.

 

A quick trip to the windy city…
…to be pleasantly welcomed by sunshine and bearable temps.

These little birds though.

Valentine breakfast.
You should know I scraped off about 7 weird-shaped blobs before scoring with these perfect hearts.

New spring chalk.

His pleas to be in the driver’s seat.
…in the car, in life.

Watching Nella run to Gary to ask him to play basketball because he did it once before and that’s all it takes to seal a memory and earn a reputation.

Tiny teenagers.

Pet store excursions.
We go a lot. To watch the dogs get haircuts, slip our fingers through cage slats to pet the kittens and to pick out the prettiest fish.

Driveways covered with toys.

Chocolate malt and cheese fry dates.
…and glimpses of sister admiration.

Picking the park less traveled so we could have it to ourselves.

Toddlers who help with spring cleaning.

Another day, clean slates, fresh, new…possibility.

 

Let’s go in like a lion next week and then smooth it out with an even-tempered but highly productive lamb that bleats a happy chorus all through spring.