I hope you all have recovered from springing forward a week ago.
The older I get, the tougher it is to do that stuff. I used to love having that extra daylight at the end of the day. Now it just seems like punishment trying to advance my medication schedule, figure out why I am hungry when I am hungry, and waiting for my sleep patterns to become, well, sleep patterns that make sense.
At this point, I should say something positive about springing forward. When The Daughters were growing up, they often came home exhibiting extreme — but typical — teenage angst. Sputtering and fist-pounding mad about some grade, classmate, basketball score, teacher, boyfriend, whatever. After listening to them rage, the Mister would say, “Now tell me three good things about that person (grade, event, or situation).” You know about how much they loved that, don’t you? However, it was not such a bad ploy. It took the wind out of their sails and eventually calm could prevail — not always, of course, but often.
So despite my sputtering about being forced by the government to spring forward, I should tell you that I am happy to be here enjoying spring. My three nice things to say about my situation would be:
1) Two weeks ago I heard tree frogs for the first time this year. We had so little moisture the swampy areas where I usually hear them were silent. Finally, after a good rain, there they were. I think some people call them “peepers.” I am not sure exactly what their name is, but Grandpa Marshall always called them tree frogs. Good enough for me.
2) For a number of years I have watched a struggling little apricot tree trying to bloom and produce while wedged between one of the century-old hackberry trees in my yard and the fence that surrounds the garden area of the Married Daughter and ole’ What’s-His-Name who live south of me. I know it is an apricot tree because four or five years ago it actually produced about a dozen apricots. I did not even know it was there. The fruit was wonderful and I have watched it ever since, hoping for more. A late-winter freeze or hungry birds always cleaned out the crop. During the past two weeks, the blossoms were abundant. The buds are still there, despite the recent cold snap. The little tree is tenacious and I have to admire its fight.
3) I love the season’s renewal. I always have and always will. It is magic.
Before you know it we will be “falling back” as we move into dreaded winter weather. It is always something.