Happy Spring, family and friends!
We seem to be in a perpetual cycle of one day of Spring tease then five days of bitter Winter cold or snow. Oh well . . . That should make Spring even more wonderful when it finally arrives to stay.
Sue and I gifted a new snowblower to my daughter, Nikki and fiancé, Jeremy. It was on their shower gift registry. They may get to use it any day, now . . .
I love how dad opens the story writing about the geese couples who inhabited the island in front of his beautiful lake house. It’s heartwarming to realize that, in nature there are tendencies to mate for life (hint: to Nicole and Jeremy) and it was awesome to see the couple’s build their nest. We stayed away from the island while mama goose lay on the eggs. Then papa goose would watch the nest and mama closely as she bathed and ate a short distance from the nest, sometimes yelling at her for straying too far. Then the crowning achievement of the family’s labors when the eggs hatched and the newborn chicks paraded around the lake . . . Awesome!
Hang in there, everybody! Spring will be here when Nature decides it’s time. An ice storm has been predicted for tonight . . . Oh boy!
Love and Spring thoughts to all,
David T
p.s. Comments are very much appreciated.You can write comments below each story.
“Springtime Springs Forward”
By Don Tschirhart
Excerpted from the unpublished book “It’s a Wonderful World II: A Retired Reporter Looks At Life“
Springtime Springs Forward
Spring is my favorite season.
Some years ago we lived on a lake with a small island a hundred yards off our shoreline.
In mid-March it was an annual ritual for two pair of honking geese to fly over our house as they headed to the island, landing clumsily on the ice, slipping and sliding, wings fluttering as they came to a stop on their backsides.
They waddled slowly to the island studying the best spots for nests before flying off to return the next day and the next.
Near the end of March the two pair of geese would build nests on each end of the island. Moms would lay eggs and sit on them patiently for 26 days before they would hatch.
Like many married people mom and dad goose had their spats, mostly when mom left her nest to swim to our lawn for dinner.
Hatching day was special. Dad in front, mom in the rear and the goslings in the middle the family would parade proudly around the lake.
This fascinating scenario happened year-after-year in the spring. And my wife, Margie, and I watched in awe as these birds, married for life, continued nature’s evolution.
Everyone has their opinion on which season is their favorite:
Summer is for those whose lives evolve around a swimming pool, pond or lake and for sailors who wish to bounce around the bounding main. Young boys of summer are on baseball diamonds in most small towns.
Autumn is for those fascinated by the golds, reds, oranges of the leaves as night-time temperatures cool. There’s nothing prettier than the Upper Peninsula in early October. And, of course, we celebrate Thanksgiving Day.
Winter is for skiing, snow-boarding, snowmobile, sledding and ice-fishing nuts, for those who think the silence of wooded trails is heaven. And Christmas.
Spring is my favorite.
The sun seems brighter after weeks and months of dreariness. People shopping at malls or in grocery stores have happier faces. Children play games on sidewalks. Older people walk their dogs. Couples hold hands and stroll the parks. People of all ages listen to the clippity-clop of their horses as they ride on dirt roads.
All of us look toward the Florida Grapefruit League games and to the start of the baseball season, especially this year when the Detroit Tigers seem to be growing into an arguably decent team after years of mediocrity.
Home gardening stores display flowers, bushes and trees. Bare tree branches begin to show little yellow and green buds that soon will burst into leaves and flowers.
Signs of new life are everywhere.
Back in the ’40’s, when I delivered mail on 12th Street (now Rosa Parks Drive) in mid-town Detroit the main sign of spring was the many new mothers showing off their babies in strollers and the open-door bakery shops and the smell of wondrous Jewish bread.
Spring was a time for Easter with families walking the main streets decked out in new suits, dresses, hats and shoes.
Where we lived it was a time for church. Synagogues were filled by Jewish families celebrating the Passover feasts. I sometimes walked by the Jewish worship places on Saturday just to hear the Cantor chanting the beautiful prayers celebrating the safe exit from Egypt of God’s chosen people.
Our Christian lives were filled with Holy Week affairs. On Palm Sunday there was the distribution of palms to the faithful and I remember twitching the girls in front of me in church with palms until they squealed.
Holy Thursday, of course, was the end-all of our week as we Christians celebrated the Last Supper. The reenactment Friday of the crucifixion always seemed too sorrowful to contemplate.
Saturday was, to me, a day of celebration. I could once again attend movies, eat candy and have three meals a day. Sunday — Easter — seemed to me to be the crowning glory of the six-week Lenten season.
After searching our house and always finding our Easter baskets filled with candy, our family would be off to church.
At Easter, our church was always filled with flowers and people and in a festival mood. Our choir, which my dad directed for a few years, usually sang the classical Mozart Mass.
Maybe it’s my memory that makes me favor Spring over all other seasons. But I think it’s more my feeling toward new life, new things happening, prolific bunnies and colored eggs. For all of my lifetime it has been that way.
As Louis Armstrong sings: “What a wonderful world . . . Oh Yes!!!”
Don Tschirhart
