It's Sprung

It's Spring. Do you know how I know? A groundhog didn't tell me. The little weiner dogs next door told me. Toby and Fred, that's the dogs, belong to Ralph, who DH calls the "Mary Poppins of Next-door Neighbors." Ralph is practically perfect in every way. But his dogs, well, they are lacking in some departments. Courtesy for one. Once warm weather returns, the dogs are released out into the sunshine to frolic and bark. And bark. And bark. If I had a power outage one day, I could tell time by these unnaturally long creatures. At 1:30 p.m. and 3 p.m. each day their voices rise in cacophony to herald some unknown irritant. Seismic activity? Weather patterns? UFOs? I dunno.

The little turtle man down the street also told me it's Spring. Though he doesn't speak a lick of English (I think he's Russian), I know it's Spring because he's resumed his daily shuffle to the corner. He looks and moves like a turtle. With his hands clasped behind his back, he moves slowly down the street, his head bobbing and poking with each slow step. I love the turtle man. I wave and he nods almost imperceptibly each time I pass. Once at the corner, he sits with the other old Russian men in the neighborhood and they gossip. He and his comrades talk about who knows what ... the old country, how many days they spent running like a young fools in the sun, or their stupid grandkids and their healthy dose of lack of respect.

I know it's Spring because my tomato plants are in the ground and blooming. I know it's Spring because the blue jay is paroling my garden patch for freshly sown seeds. I know it's Spring because I have volunteer ranunculus sprouting in my picket-fence planter.

It's Spring because yesterday I felt the pull of the sunshine in the early afternoon. So I and my scoop of strawberry ice cream sat on the wall of my garden soaking in its rays. (I ate the ice cream before it got to sit.)

Three cheers for Spring. Now excuse me, I'm going to try to enjoy it before it turns into Summer next week.