Confusion attacks our bodies with a time change.
We are lured into a peaceful new beginning with warmer weather. We cheer at the first buds that pop out as soon as the warm sun heats the earth. Kids see the end of a new school year getting closer. Across the landscape baby lambs romp and dance around their moms. We start to think about opening windows and turning off the heat. Heavy blankets are cleaned and stored. An overwhelming urge comes to dig in the dirt. Yep. Spring is teasing us, and we welcome it with open arms.
Here in Oregon Springs peeks in around the third week in February. By most flowers blooming. Even the pear tree is eager to get the buds open. The twins and I take our walk around the yard to see what new plant is coming up. Nolan bends down wanting ‘so badly to pick a new flower. I tell him no, but somehow it ends up in his little hand. A gift for MeMe. I just can’t get angry at that. Even on rainy days they want to do our nature walk to find treasures, so we don our boots and have another adventure.
I was blessed to be raised in a family who embraced nature. Generations of our family had instilled this interest. A precious gift handed down. When my granddaughters were younger, our nature walks included a game. We looked for the alphabet in the growth around us. An A could be limbs that crossed. C could be the curl of a plant. Before long, we also found animal shapes in logs and limbs. A walk became an adventure and nature our teacher.
Little buds are popping up along the fence. The ground is covered with them. I am very excited since I know that trilliums are reaching for the sun. The bed will be bigger this year. Leaves hide that lovely white bloom. I know that Nolan will have his nose under there trying to sneak another gift for me.
“Mom, can you check out that stinking plant that came up last year? I don’t think I killed it,” James asked. Sure enough. That monstrous rare flower that the earlier owner planted refuses to give up its life. The stinking plant has a bloom larger than anything I’ve ever seen. It is called a corpse flower and smells as such. I’m not sure if James thinks I can destroy this monster plant. I’m thinking it might eat one of the twins if I fail. Ah, what are mothers for.
Perhaps what I think of most is spring on the farm. The Loxley sisters beating the rugs with the beaters. We slapped them silly, or maybe we just became silly. Buckets of soapy water and a whole lot of woodwork to wash down. Blankets hanging on the line, and the sound of Dad’s tractors in field as he cleaned out the sheds. Soon the tobacco bed steamer would work its way back the lane. The garden plot was plowed. It was a lovely time on the farm on Neff Road. A lovely time to be a Loxley girl.
I think perhaps I like spring best.
Pamela Loxley Drake is a former resident of Darke County and is the author of Neff Road and A Grandparent Voice blog. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Viewpoints expressed in the article are the work of the author. The Daily Advocate does not endorse these viewpoints or the independent activities of the author.