Spring is sure to appear this time of year, inducing fecund hopes and optimism. Its grey light enters our dark and sleepy bedrooms like silver satin sheets determined to nudge us out of bed. Chirping birds sound like a symphony heralding the new season. We remember their sweet melody and shed memories of cold and snow, as if they were old skins. Even occasional, pollen-laden high winds cannot stop it.
Outside the cottonwood branches are still naked, their grey skin dormant. But their pregnant tips are starting to give birth to delicate green baby leaves. Pay attention and you’d hear the new-born talking to each other nonstop like long-lost pals. Their speech sounds like rustling leaves, sometimes loud when the wind blows, sometimes an intimate whisper, a gentle kiss when the wind stills.
We feel fresh and itch to garden, yearning for growth and rejuvenation. Seed catalogs transport us to places of abundant possibilities of color and pleasing fragrances. They lure us to work the soil and see our gardens with new potentials of magical dreams, or take us to the hiking paths that mark the foothills and bosque like veins in the human body. It is a unique sensation of warmth and joy, like reconnecting with old friends.
As days become warmer, many of us start cleaning our yards, preparing them for planting. Daffodils pop up for their short annual visits, dressed in cheerful yellow outfits, regal orange crowns on their heads. Soon they would leave to make room for later bright spring color of snapdragons, petunias and calendulas. Before long, spring promises turn into splendid colors and scents to please our eyes and souls. Fragrant lavenders of blue hues sooth our senses into calming submission, pink and red roses shower us with their intoxicating scents like a date invitation, deep penstemon sends us ablaze, and violet salvias and pansies of all colors explode in front of us vying for attention.
Then the long summer days would descend. The sky would turn an inviting deep blue ocean, contained by the majestic Sandia mountain range, and the garden would fill with hummingbirds and butterflies, dotting the still air like figures on a canvass. Sitting protected from the scorching heat and jarring light, I would marvel at the vibrant summer beauties as the aromatic agastache, coney coneflowers, delightful dahlias, marvelous marigolds, pretty petunias, zesty zinnias. It is almost too much to take in one glance, to smell in one inhalation, to appreciate in one stroll.
And for a split second in the mid-summer day, feeling the pain of a year evaporated like a late New Mexico snow, I catch a glimpse of friends covided.
But I shake off these feelings and focus my senses on the splendor of the season.
Come. Let’s spring.