Archive for Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Beal: Spring has sprung

March 9, 2010

It’s amazing what a difference a few days make. A few days, that is, when the temperatures begin to rise and you begin to get the feeling that spring will really come again this year.

It started about midweek, Thursday, actually. After what seemed like eons of below-normal temperatures, it finally began to warm up on Thursday, which was the first day since I don’t know when that the mercury actually hit in the normal range. For the record the high Thursday was 50 degrees; the average for that date is 51.

Sunday, with temperatures well up in the 50s, the wife and I went for a walk — the first time we’ve felt able (OK then, willing) to do that since late last fall. We saw several neighbors out on the same errand — all of us reveling in this rite of spring.

In the words of Alfred Lord Tennyson:

“In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish’d dove;

“In the Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.”

Here are some other thoughts of spring, and their authors:

“Behold, my friends, the spring is come; the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun, and we shall soon see again the results of their love.” – Sitting Bull.

“Break open a cherry tree and there are no flowers, but the spring breeze brings forth myriad blossoms.” – Ikkyu Sojun.

“Every spring is the only spring, a perpetual astonishment.” – Ellis Peters.

“Nothing is so beautiful as spring – when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing.” – Gerard Manley Hopkins.

“O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?” – Percy Bysshe Shelley.

“Oh, Spring! I want to go out and feel you and get inspiration. My old things seem dead. I want fresh contacts, more vital searching.” – Emily Carr.

“One swallow does not make a summer, but one skein of geese, cleaving the murk of March thaw, is the Spring.” – Aldo Leopold.

“People ask me what I do in the winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.” – Rogers Hornsby.

“Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!” – Wallace Stevens.

“Spring beckons! All things to the call respond; the trees are leaving and the cashiers abscond.” – Ambrose Bierce.

“Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems.” – Rainer Maria Rilke.

“The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created Spring.” – Bern Williams.

“Every year, back comes Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up with plants.” – Dorothy Parker.

“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.” – Margaret Atwood.

“It’s designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything is new again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains comes, it stops, and leaves you to face the fall alone.” – A. Bartlett Giamatti.

“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you dies each year when the leaves fall from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason.” – Ernest Hemingway.

“It’s easy to understand why the most beautiful poems about England were written by poets living in Italy at the time.” – Philip Dunne.

“Spring is nature’s way of saying, ‘Let’s party!’” – Robin Williams.

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