Spring Fever

Junior can't compete with Zorro

Easter has come & gone. We had a wonderful dinner at Mom’s, with two of our four kids, their partners, and our grandson, Clyde. I’m not a believer in the literal interpretation of the Christian Easter story, but I do love the resurrection metaphor. Even if the “greening” is just part of a natural cycle, there’s something miraculous about the coming-back-to-life of spring.

Clyde approves of the peep cake

Here on the Row, and in our little family, signs of new life are everywhere. The most beautiful signs are my daughter and quasi-daughter-in-law (QDIL or Cutie-IL), both of whom are preggers. So in late August and early September respectively, I will have two new grandchildren to annoy folks with on Facebook. Needless to say (why do people say that, when it’s always followed by whatever is “needless”…argh!), I’m knitting up a storm. Grandson Clyde, my daughter’s oldest, has pre-named his new sibling varying combinations of Ginger Cactus Punch Sprinkles, which I think is a fine name. I’m calling the other new baby Alba, and she will be the first for our youngest son. My oldest son has two teens, one of whom is now driving (O, the karmic satisfaction…).

Look closely...green stuff!

Our two male peacocks, Junior and Zorro, are working overtime. Zorro spends most of the day doing his fan dance on the front patio, in front of the greenhouse windows where he can admire himself. He takes occasional breaks to square off in midair kickboxing duels with Junior, who doesn’t seem to be making any points with our two hens, Debbie and Wanda. The girls stroll nonchalantly back & forth in the yard, hanging out near Zorro and secretly checking him out, while still keeping a safe distance. If they accidently get too close, Zorro lets out a fevered honk and pounces.

The Canada and Snow geese are northbound in flocks bigger than I’ve seen in years. I’ve been in South Dakota for three decades now, but the V’s overhead (hundreds of birds sometimes) can still stop me in my tracks, craning my neck and gaping, slack-jawed, hypnotized. The starlings are coming back too, and I’ve seen some spectacular murmurations—those undulating cloud-like ballets an entire flock does—on my drives to and from town.

The girls pretend not to notice

Breast Beanie cap for breastfeeding babies

People in year-round warm climates probably can’t understand the giddy joy and renewal of spirit that northern prairie people feel each spring. And every winter, when Ray and I talk, as we always do, about moving farther south, we eventually come back around to the wonder of spring and not wanting to miss these first telltale signs. 

So today, with sunshine and temps in the mid-50’s, I’ll make split pea soup out of leftover Easter ham, do some more knitting on a “breast beanie” for my Cutie-IL, do some PT by walking the dogs on the trail, and give thanks to the Universe for the resurrection of spring.