SPRING CLEANING

Growing up in the Midwest, in a family of hard workers with strong ideas of right and wrong, I could always count on one thing. Every year the arrival of Spring meant something important: Cleaning Out. Cleaning Up. 

Almost an "off with the old and on with the new" attitude. But not quite.

Houses were swept, scrubbed, and polished until every surface mirrored my face and the fragrance of lavender greeted me every time I came home from school.

Furniture appeared in back yards--not for sale, but for airing.

Clotheslines sagged with heavy bedspreads, wool blankets, small-to-medium sized rugs. Also for airing.

Eventually, after the furniture and other household linens were back in place, out came our winter clothing. Once the wool jackets, coats, and sweaters appeared on the clotheslines, we knew it really was Spring. None of those things would be worn again until cold weather appeared, probably in November. (And you were on your own if you felt cold before the official date of hauling out woolies.)

In those days, not much was thrown away. "Make it do or do without" wasn't just an attitude of the Yankees of New England--it was the difference between having a sufficient something until money again became available to replace it. And, it was a matter of pride.

So I don't recall much of the old stuff going out and being replaced by new stuff. I do recall folks reusing clothing--cutting out the good parts of old suits to make a child's coat, for example. (Clearly, recycling is not a new concept.)

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Fast forward to today--yes, we recycle; been doing that officially for a couple of decades. We've had to re-learn the "make it do" philosophy during a year of COVID, especially when it came to having enough paper products or canned goods.

Then there's another category of Spring Cleaning: our attitudes.

There's a lot--a whole lot--of stuff in the news about diversity, racism, social justice, and more. We're encouraged to think of others. Help those who are having a hard time. If you can't donate money or goods, how about giving a kind word? Or a smile? Or just letting somebody in line ahead of you at the checkout when they have three items and you have a cartful?

It's been a while since I took my attitudes out for an airing--got them down off the shelf and dusted them, rubbed them with a cloth and some fragrant dusting spray to make them shine again. Maybe take them outside and hang them on a drying rack (no clotheslines around here) in the sun and breeze. I think it's time. And Spring is as good a time as any.

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Without our help, Nature comes along and does a super job of Renewal. Every year. Without fail. 

The church encourages Renewal--Easter is a grand celebration of the power of new life.

We can do it, too. It doesn't have to be expensive or labor intensive. How about it?

 IT’S THAT TIME OF YEAR ALREADY?

[Yes, it's definitely that time of year! When I did my shopping I couldn't resist the display of seed packets--bought some (for other people to use). Made my day! My family is full of gardeners--generations before me, generations after me. People in my neighborhood and elsewhere are working in their yards and some are planting things, so, here are some thoughts on gardens that I wrote a couple of years ago.]

Today I’m not very inspired by what I see in my neighborhood, or know is coming up on my calendar (which isn't much). I mean, I’m having green grass, bloomin’ flowers, and singing birds. Oh, and troublesome squirrels, digging in my landscaping. Grrr. Lots of folks are having the same. Yesterday I did a bigger-than-usual shop for groceries and the good old etc. Are you interested in hearing about that? No, didn't think you would.

So, let’s think about something current and nice to contemplate—gardens and gardening. Here are some pithy thoughts to stir your brain:

If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.

Marcus Tullius Cicero

[Can’t argue with that one.]

 A garden requires patient labor and attention. Plants do not grow merely to satisfy ambitions or to fulfill good intentions. They thrive because someone expended effort on them.

Liberty Hyde Bailey

[Hmm, effort. Yes, indeed.]

We must cultivate our own garden. When man was put in the garden of Eden he was put there so that he should work, which proves that man was not born to rest.

Voltaire

[Yeah, but sometimes I need to rest, a lot. Sorry, Voltaire.]

 I don't like formal gardens. I like wild nature. It's just the wilderness instinct in me, I guess.

Walt Disney

[Wilderness is fine, but there better not be any snakes and big bears.]

 The best place to find God is in a garden. You can dig for him there.

George Bernard Shaw

[Good one, George.]

 Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace.

May Sarton

[Maybe I better rethink this gardening thing.]

 Help us to be ever faithful gardeners of the spirit, who know that without darkness nothing comes to birth, and without light nothing flowers.

May Sarton

[Ah, gardening as metaphor—now I can get into that.]

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When I googled “gardening” I discovered mostly info about flower gardens and what I call English gardens—not a kitchen garden that feeds the manor but cultivated and high-maintenance beauties.

Pole beans make hiding places by August.

Then I thought about gardens in my life, and I time-traveled back to childhood—Grandpa Jenkins was the first gardener I remember. When we went to visit him and Grandma at the edge of their little town, there beside the house was a HUGE garden—what I’d call a couple of acres now that I know what that looks like—where Grandpa tilled, planted, cultivated, and harvested every kind of vegetable. I remember especially the tee-pees he made to encourage the beans to vine up. Those made wonderful hiding places in summer if I wanted to get away from my irritating (male) cousins.

We kids often pulled and ate radishes and carrots right out in the garden. Dirt? Well, yeah, there was dirt on them; they grew in the dirt. We wiped it off on our slacks or on the grass, and chomped away.

By August there was always something to can. My mother and her sisters and sisters-in-law came to help Grandma “put up” pints and quarts of beautiful food. Some of the jars went home with the helpers, some stayed at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. My job was washing the jars, because my hands were smaller than those of my mom and aunts. (And also less swollen because I was too young to have arthritis, a family hand-me-down.)

My own adult experiences with gardening have no romance about them, not even in memory—I recall back-breaking work, sweat, mosquitoes (try picking cucumbers at dawn to take to the local pickle factory), more sweat during canning. But for me, it was an eye-opener: my parents and grandparents went to a lot of trouble and toil to provide meals for their tables. Nothing like an aching back and some itchy mosquito bites to drive home a lesson about how food gets to the mouths of our children.

At my time in life, firmly established in retirement, I enjoy the produce grown by others: my daughter and son who are the gardeners in the family; folks who offer their wares at the Farmer’s Market; neighbors and friends with surplus tomatoes/squash/cucumbers on their half-dozen plants that all produced at the same time.

When I miss the camaraderie of the kitchen at harvest time, I go to my daughter’s in Ohio and cut up, slice, or clean whatever’s going; wash dishes, and jars and lids and rings; stir a pot of something that needs to cook a little before being canned (jelly and pasta sauce); rest my weary back and legs for a while and eat a quick lunch; then back to the jar-filling before I head home. Come winter, I’ll spread jam (that I helped make) on toast and utter an “ummmm.” And when I can’t think of anything to cook, there’s a jar of pasta sauce on the pantry shelf waiting for my gluten-free pasta to join it for a filling dish. Tomato juice? V-4 juice? Just right for soup. Get out the slow cooker and start putting things in.

Nowadays I’m more of an appreciator than a gardener. But I celebrate and salute all those who really dig gardening. J





NINE DAYS!

Can you make it 9 more days till Spring arrives? Of course you can!

Yesterday our temp here in Northeast Indiana was 67 degrees! Windy, naturally. Mostly sunny. And a foretaste of the season to come! When I got up this morning, it was 61 degrees and rain. Also a foretaste of the season to come.

My neighbor's big old maple is already budding. Mine are a bit reticent, waiting until all the other trees have done their big number before coming to the show. But narcissus are up, with tall leaves indicating stems with flowers will be along soon. The resurrection lily has leaves at least five inches above the ground. 

It all looks pretty good so far. Our recent snows (3 weeks ago I wrote about our 6-10 inches of white stuff) have melted. But now lawns are covered in debris--last year's leaves blown in from somebody else's yard, sticks that parted from their trees during the wintry storms and the weight of ice and snow. There'll be plenty of clean-up to do one of these balmy days.

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I hope no one thinks I'm doing my ostrich act--I do know we could have another humdinger of a snow storm--in March, in April. We've had snow in May, for heaven's sake. Nothing is certain just because the calendar declares Spring has arrived. But since Thursday's Child likes to celebrate, we're celebrating the Signs of Spring--the overture before the main event.

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Another sign of the new season is the arrival of--you guessed it--Daylight Savings Time. By the time we meet again we'll have lost that hour of sleep that happens every year in March. It always comes along just when I'm getting accustomed to early morning light--nice to wake up in the light, not in the dark. The other end of the day stays light longer, and that means I won't want to go to bed at a normal time. Or eat supper at the appropriate hour. When it's so light outside, I'm not hungry. Go figure.

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Here's the great thing about the arrival of Spring--it's a free gift. After a year (or more) of uncertain times--political dominance of the news, illness and death on a mega scale (also much in the news), protests, rioting, marching, speeches--after all that and more, Nature comes along on schedule and hands us a brand new season to enjoy. All we have to do is accept the gift. We had no influence in the gift's arrival time. We didn't order it (though I know a good many people prayed for it to come soon). We couldn't bribe Nature to do it now.

To paraphrase a Simon & Garfunkel song, "Spring, come she will."

 I hope your transition to the new season is carefree, full of joy. Take some time to look for Nature's signs that she's arriving in her new garb. Bask in the sun. Take a walk in the rain. Listen for birdsong.

Till next time, stay safe, stay well. 

Blessings to all...........

MARCH

 

Daffodils like 'Love Call', sometimes called jonquils or narcissus, are the birth flowers for March. Because they often bloom in early spring, they symbolize new birth, beginnings, happiness and joy. --HGTV website

I also read somewhere that daffodils symbolize hope. So take your pick: new birth--beginnings--happiness--joy--hope.

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You probably noticed that the calendar page changed. And in just a little over two weeks, we'll say "It's spring!" 

Most people I've talked to are hoping the lamb-like opening of the month isn't going to slide down into a lionized ending. But it isn't purely lamb-like--sunny, yes, and some warm days. But there's an occasional biting wind lurking around. Our winter coats and scarves and gloves are still hanging around ready to slip on before we head outside.

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Recently I wrote a note to a friend, apologizing for my tardy thanks for her gift. I wasn't sure if I was slowing down or if Time was really and truly speeding up. 

It occurs to me now that this is exactly what my grandparents must have felt. They were married in 1898, had 10 children in the next 24 years, and thus an abundance of grandchildren. We all grew up in "modern" times--jazz, bobbed hair, bathtub gin for the older cousins. Women working in factories during WW II, more jazz, then rock 'n' roll, faster cars for the later group.

As I grew older, I felt my feet dragging when the times started speeding up on me--manners and morals seemed to change overnight; crime came closer to home (no longer just a feature of big city living). When new technology came, I was among those who had to grit their teeth and learn to use computers if they wanted to keep working.

Now that I'm well-advanced in my life, I begin to empathize with my grandparents in their struggle to cope with social change. "Modern times" is a phrase that actually means nothing--every time claims to be modern. New Age is now an outmoded concept. Today's latest-and-greatest is tomorrow's "old school."

What I take away from this line of thinking is this: Why bother trying to keep up? Why not, instead, find what suits us--a preferred way of doing something, a kind of tool or appliance we like to work with, our favorite recipes or quilting patterns or birdhouse designs--and just do those things? Why not, indeed! We can always be creative within the parameters of our faves.

We can still keep up to date with what the world is doing, if we want to, by watching movies and TV series on the hundreds of channels available nowadays. We can visit with our grandchildren and great-grandchildren and find out what they know and like and what's new in their lives. And read--there's always something out there we haven't read yet.

Change is good--it keeps us from growing stale. But change is not good if it's done just to keep up with what the world is doing. Why? Because by the time you change your way of living--especially if you move slowly, like I do--there's yet another brand new way out there waiting for you. 

My experience tells me that what I've done for years, and the ways I've enjoyed doing those things, have become my way of doing them.

It's called being your authentic self. So why not do that!

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Here are some closing thoughts for you:

Daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.
–William Shakespeare, The Winter’s Tale

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
–William Wordsworth, I Wander’d Lonely as a Cloud

Of Spring Weather:
Chillier, but daffodillier.
–The 1991 Old Farmer’s Almanac

Daffodil fields