A Squabble with Spring

As far as seasons go, spring is worthless. While it may have just begun, I’m ready for spring to end. Sure, spring carries a whole heap of symbolic meaning, but what season doesn’t? I really don’t care if spring break represents rebirth or budding or Eostre and the Vernal Equinox.

Critics will say, “Oh, but spring is when the flowers bloom!” or “beautiful pastel colors are only fashionable during spring,” or a host of other nonsense. And to them I say, well I’ve got flowers that bloom throughout the year, and it’s too cold and/or wet to enjoy flowers and shrubs and such during spring, anyway. Oh, and pastels look awful and go with nothing. There. I’ve got a rebuttal for anything positive you might say about spring. Try me.

It’s Spring Break here in Appalachia, and I’ve a week away from the kiddos to bask in the. . .snow. Yep, snow. I’ve got plants sprouting in the greenhouse, beans twining up one another, begging to be placed in the ground, and the ground is covered in snow (now melted, thankfully).  I could have, like any other rational person, packed up for a short jaunt to the beach or another tropical location, but no, I wanted to be productive. Why, I’ll do needed yard work!, I told myself,  I’ll trim those shrubs and fertilize that grass and plant those bulbs and. . .watch it snow. 

Tulips in the Snow

My tulips are not happy.

For those of you lucky enough to live in more stable climates, enjoy. The rest of us in less pleasurable locales will be thinking fondly of summer. If any of you would like, please, whisk me away to your tropical paradise. I’ll do my own laundry!

[I’m taking suggestions for this week’s installment of The Tweeded Ten. Email me or post them in the comments.]

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