I love New Hampshire winters, I swear. That may be a bit strong, but I do like them, really.
Oh, fine. I tolerate November through March. I scrape by, from one frozen windshield to the next, waiting patiently for the calls of spring. Not so much because I’m enthralled by the sounds of the Grey Catbird, but because I’ll no longer have to listen for the dull roar of a city snowplow.
I apologize if I’m raining on your frosty winter parade. But I don’t think I’m alone in loving the arrival of spring first and foremost because it’s not winter. Leave the budding of trees and the feel of fresh earth to the poets. For me, the arrival of spring means lugging the patio furniture out of the shed. It means cleaning last year’s grime from this year’s grill. And, finally, it’ll mean I can finally pull the plastic sheeting from the exterior walls of my screen porch now that my wife’s prized wicker furniture is no longer under the constant threat of snow drifts.
With the manual labor finally aside, I’ll be able to go ahead with the true meaning of spring, at least from my perspective. I’ll now have the sidewalks and the breakdown lanes back for my morning runs. I’ll be able to go downtown and enjoy a beer – while seated at an outdoor table. And while I’m there, truth be told, I will enjoy the sound of the birds and the view of the greening trees.
Until, that is, I’m sent to pick up 25 bags of mulch for the two weeks of planting that’s landed on my to-do list.
How long until summer?
Editor’s note: (Hey, wait a minute – that’s me). Despite the writer’s apparent dismissal of spring, there really are a lot of great things to do and see in the months ahead. The following pages are filled with ideas.