The Annual Struggle

We have returned to Highlands in mid-March, just in time to witness the annual struggle between Winter and Spring, one not wanting to let go just yet and the other insisting that it is time.  Yesterday afternoon the temperature went up to 70 degrees, and everywhere we looked we saw flowering trees and greening grass.  Our hyacinths and daffodils, like old friends, were waiting to greet us along the walk.

Down the road just a bit, the wall of forsythia in front of our neighbor's garden was already profuse, although with less sunshine ours is still a little spindly.

After cleaning the table, we ate lunch out on our deck.  And then it was so nice that we ate dinner there, too, although Spring showers threatened to chase us indoors.

It was also nice to meet friends at the Park yesterday morning for a group run - Karen and Fred, and later Vicki and Art.  We have had the opportunity to run more in Atlantic Beach than we would have here in Highlands this winter, but they have been solo runs, and I have missed the camaraderie of running with friends.  Running has been a struggle, though, partly because of the 500-mile drive home and partly because of the change in altitude, from pretty close to zero feet on those glorious mornings when I could play tag with the incoming surf running on the beach, to 3850 feet on Main Street.  I managed only five miles yesterday, and as I told Martha when I returned home it felt like ten.  But I have been in this place before in my life as a runner, know that I will soon become acclimated to the altitude, and before long will be running up Big Bearpen again.

I am looking at the weather forecast for the week now and I see to my disappointment that this balmy time will come to an end in a few days; the temperature on Thursday morning is predicted to be 22 degrees.  I remember seeing it snow many times in April, after all, and on one memorable occasion on May 6.  But fortunately those snows do not last long, and there is something especially lovely about snow clinging to daffodils.

There is plenty to do this time of year in our yard.  I picked up most of the branches that blew down over the past four months, and on Friday I unstopped the culvert under out neighbor's driveway which in a torrential rain on Friday briefly turned our front yard into a muddy river.  There are apple trees to prune, and compost to take to the gardens, and then gardens to be tilled and planted.  All of this is the kind of work I look forward to, that good satisfying work that makes one sleep well at the end of the day.  

But 22 degrees on Thursday!  Perhaps I will take that day off from yard work.  It won't be long before we will be hearing the peepers down the road, the crocuses will be struggling free from the earth, and insistent Spring will have won the struggle.

I made a covenant with Spring
It was Ordinary Time, and the crocuses were up;
The morning sun lapped at the edge of the pond.
And the birds sang every morning.  I gave them
Literary names:  Cheever Cheever Cheever.

We decided on this Palm Sunday morning that we should not work at all, but instead should take a drive down to South Carolina for a surprise visit with Martha's aunt Anne.  It is not easy to surprise her, but we did, the first time we have seen her in something like 15 months.  We have talked from time to time on the phone, but it was so nice to see her face to face!  Everywhere we look, things are getting better: restaurants are opening, events are being planned, and nearly everybody we know has already been vaccinated.  There is a lot to look forward to as the long struggle with Winter - and with the pandemic - seems to be coming to an end.