Embracing Barbiecore

There is an inevitable moment in the Winter season when I have had enough of the cold and snow.  When it happens, I turn to pink sweaters to see me through to the day in March when I will pack up my Winter tights and wool sweaters and declare Sassafras Spring.  That moment of Winter weariness came earlier than usual this year - likely because the cold aggravates my already unhappy hip - and last week I began to actively fantasize about Spring.  Usually I get through the last week of February and start of March by wearing cozy pink sweaters.  This year, the pink sweaters will start before Valentine’s Day.  For starters, I’ll be off work for my surgery.  Without the need to appear sensible at school, I can sit around home wearing whatever I damn well please.  And what I please is looking to be a whole lot of pink. 

Among the Trees: A Celebration of May

Of all the months in New Jersey, May is by far the loveliest.  Trees have begun to leaf out and lawns are a lush, verdant green.  In my yard, some tulip flowers in the northern-facing flowerbeds are still standing tall, I have iris flowers, and the hosta leaves have begun to open.  Later in the month, there will be peonies and rhododendron flowers.   Daytime temperatures are often warm while the nighttime weather is perfect for sleeping.  In short, May is lovely. 

This year is no exception and we’ve had sunshine this week.  The blue skies and fluffy white clouds feel like they are here to feed my soul just when I most need two feel the light.

Rows and Rows of Tulips

A friend and I made a visit to a local tulip farm on Sunday and the flowers were simply splendid.

Row after row of tulips in all shades greeted us.

I’ve been to the tulip farm before and I knew what to expect.  This visit was better... that in itself was a reminder of how hard 2022 proved itself to be.  This year, we walked through the fields and enjoyed ourselves immensely.  

Dogwood Blooms

In the dark and cold of the early Spring mornings, I make time to step outside and spy the dogwood tree.  At first, the start of leaves and the small, tight buds that will become flowers take time to come into focus.  As the days grow longer and the sunlight grows warmer, the leaves, which start the size of slender nail clippings, begin to grow larger.  The same is true for the buds.  They start as tiny hard nodules on the end of new growth branches and daily they grow just a smidge bigger.  

Come April, it’s clear there will be flowers in the coming weeks and though I’ve known it all along, known it since the tree shed its leaves in the Fall, I am still overjoyed at the coming blossoms.  Spring is here, the dogwood flowers call to me, and in the chill of the early morning, the chirping birds and I cheer them on.

Summing Up the Month: March

No month would be complete without a word graphic to help remind me of the little things that make the month lovely.  March is rather an expectant month as I wait - not so patiently - for Spring.  

A Starry Respite

We’ve had Spring Break for the last two weeks.  I worked the first week, plugging my way through a 40 item to-do list, each task something that will help the final part of the school year to unfold smoothly (or at least avoid a shit show). I spent the second week away from school and work, sleeping in, and looking for the evening stars, which I found Tuesday night in rural Pennsylvania, in the company of JT and some dear friends. 

It was a welcome respite.  This morning, I’m up early for the return of students and the resumption of classes.  Spring is always busy - often ridiculously so - and I expect this Spring will be no exception.  With any luck, the time off will fortify me until the warm days truly settle in and bring the ease of sunshine and lots of time outdoors, which I crave these days.    

Early Spring

As March prepares to exit, I am yearning for sunshine and warmth in a way that is almost physical.  It’s not just a desire to step outside without a coat, mittens, hat, and scarf to ward off the cold.  It’s a deep need to be outside and able to lift my face to the sun and feel its warmth on my skin.  This is a common feeling for March in central New Jersey and I know that as each day brings a smidge more sunlight, a rescue is on the way.  

The rescue won’t be today, which is cold and rainy, a day that would be dreary if it weren’t for the signs of Spring I can find every where I look.  The lawns in my neighborhood are starting to turn the verdant green of Spring.  Around town, there are forsythia in bloom and dogwood trees aren't far behind.  There are purple crocuses in the shade of my front yard flowerbed and brave bunches of daffodils in the sunniest part of the back yard.  All of them cheer me up, as if they know I need a reminder that warmer days are at hand.  Hold on, they tell me.  The light is on its way.

Gratitude Journal: The Growing Season

A few week ago, when I got back to New Jersey after my stay in California, I took a walk at Colonial Park and saw a forsythia just starting to bloom.  That’s an early bloom; the first of the season.  My first thought was “I’ll tell dad.”  Then I remembered that he’s not taking my calls these days and, honestly, it sucked.  To have the start of Spring without my dad around to discuss gardens, seedlings, and all things turning green has been hard.  

I learned to love gardens and plants from him and I am reminded that in these growing things is the comfort I need.  Plants grow and then fade and die.  In some cases, that happens in a year.  In others, a growing thing (looking at you, redwoods), can last for ages, well past the life of one human.  There are lessons in that, of course.  Human life is fragile and short when measured against historical time.  What can endure is the mark we make on this world and the people around us. 

In that respect, my dad has the edge.  For his kind heart, he was known and admired by so many people.    He adored his grandsons beyond a reason and rationality and they knew it and loved him back.  He was fiercely loved by the rest of us as well.  And his gardening lives on, in the peach trees he ordered in December, delivered from his favorite nursery a few days after he died.  In the lemon trees he planted in all of his yards; in the daffodils I saw blooming around his house and all the places he lived in Clovis; in the irises that grow in my backyard; bulbs that came from his grandmother’s garden. 

Days and then years will come and go.  But Spring will always bring new growth.  In that fresh green, I will look for my gardener dad and the joy his plants brought him.  I know I’ll find him there. 

The Morning Call

I am an early-riser,  though the birds always beat me to the punch.  I hear their chirps as I come awake in the darkness.  By the time I’ve showered and poured my first cup of coffee, the bird song is a choir that makes my morning complete.  They are the soundtrack for my morning meditation and they make the early Spring days very nice. 

Thanks to my backyard bird feeder, I’ve had the chance to know exactly who is in the choir that sings my morning greeting.  There are blue birds and cardinals, robins, juncos, and gold finches.  Sometimes I hear a woodpecker in the morning, and there are other birds I’m learning to recognize.  The feeder is my way of thanking them for the morning chorus that makes my morning complete.

Just in Time

I stood in the kitchen this morning, looking out the windows toward the East as the glow of a vibrant pink sunrise slowly filled the horizon, glowing behind the branches of the leafless trees at Winter’s close.  It was beautiful; an unearned glory for a day that needed it.

Spring Break starts this afternoon and it’s been a long week - far longer than the 5 days it apparently lasted - and the time off is badly needed by everyone: me, my students, my teachers.  The Winter quarter is often difficult and this one has been no exception.  As the hardships added up, our collective patience thinned, and we arrive at this day with a great need to refresh our reserves.  

When things get tense, I remind myself, my students, and my faculty that we can disagree and still move forward if we can all be people of good will.  It’s not as easy as it sounds.  It requires everyone to step outside of themselves to see that there is a bigger picture.  It has the value of being both a guide in the moment as well as a clear map for moving forward.  It’s worked before and I’m hoping that that charm endures and can guide us into the light this time around as well.

Style Journal: Sassafras Spring

I always welcome Winter when it shows its cards.  I value the reminder to pause and rest, tucked inside away from the cold.  I eagerly take up the invitation to haul out my Winter goods.  I have enough Winter clothing to keep me cozy and warm on the coldest of days, even outdoor recess with temps below 35.  Inside, I have warm bedding, an abundance of throw blankets, and a wealth of twinkling lights to greet the season of darkness and cold.  

But no matter how much cozy I can summon and enjoy, the arrival of February has me thinking about Spring.  Sometimes I blame the cold and the darkness for my recurring daydreams of warmth; sometimes I blame the Spring garden catalogs that fill my mailbox come mid-January.  Sometimes it’s just a longing for the ease of stepping outdoors without the advance-planning of shoes, coats, mittens, hats, scarves and the knowledge that despite the layers, the cold will still take my breath away. 

Come the last days of February, I scan the 10-day weather forecast with a keen eye, looking for two or three days in a row above 45 degrees to warrant an announcement that Spring has arrived.  This will be an announcement that only I will make and only I will embrace.  I call it Sassafras Spring and, like Spring itself, it will be both arbitrary and capricious.*Dark Winter coats and sweaters and warm Winter tights are banished and packed away, replaced by pink and coral sweaters, canvas sneakers, and a sky blue coat…all warm enough to get me through the cold of early Spring but bright enough for me to pretend that Winter is over.  I’ll haul out an abundance of Spring scarves, in colors bright enough to signal the season of growth but still warm enough to keep me from shivering.

This year, Sassafras Spring was declared on March 1, far too early to be sensible, of course.  But just in time to cheer me up.  

Sunlight, Warmth, and Daffodils

I’m in California right now, my second visit in so many months.  I came to see my family and to stay with my mom for a bit as she sorts out life without my dad.  I’ve missed the second patch of extreme cold in New Jersey by being in California in February and it must be said that I’d truly forgotten how beautiful my home town is at this time of year.  It’s been warm - mostly in the 60s - and there has been sunshine and skies clear enough to enable me to see the Sierra Nevada mountains nearly every day.  The daylight is lasting a bit longer with each sunrise and that’s been very nice as well.  

Spring is my favorite season, always.  The slow arrival of blooms and greenery feels like a yearly unearned miracle unfolding before my eyes; each day bringing us something new to admire.  Even a mild Winter, like the one we’ve mostly experienced in New Jersey this year, is cold.  As it drags on, I long for the easy days of warmer weather and my joy in the arrival of Spring is always unmeasured and unbound.

Being in California now is, of course, a respite from our cold.  That I’m here helping my mother to transition to life without her husband of 58 years is a reminder that our time on earth passes quickly.  But there is sunshine and daffodils have begun to bloom, two things my dad would have enjoyed, and I take comfort in that.

Thoughts of Spring

Toward the end of January, a colleague mentioned that we were through the first month of Winter and I was caught up short and not a little appalled to consider that Spring was officially still two months away.   I take  a meteorological approach to the seasons and as soon as December arrives, I consider it Winter.  Since this first month of Winter is accompanied by twinkly lights and holiday celebrations, it’s lovely.

My approach has the convenient effect of making the long January, with its dark, grey skies and cold days, the second month of my Winter.  February is the third month of Winter and with only 28 days, that feels like a win.  Soon enough, March has arrived and I can declare Spring, so I do just that.  

The calendar and Mother Nature don’t always see it my way, of course, but that doesn’t get me down.  I want Spring and that is that.  I shall have it come the 1st of March, no matter the temperature outside.

The Joys of April

After an especially hard week, I treated myself to a spa pedicure on Friday afternoon.  Today, while I sat on the front steps getting ready to put on my yard work shoes and cut the grass, I looked at my feet and realized that my summer flip flop tan line hasn’t faded out completely.

There’s something quite hopeful about such a revelation.  In my daydreams of late, I imagine day after day of flip flops and some real time off this summer.  Reservations have been made and my packing list is ready.  That is a most happy prospect for me to contemplate.  In the meantime, April has pink tulips.

Iris blooms.

And lush, green grass to be cut.  Here’s to the first mow of the season and to the many more to follow.

Flower Whisperer

March is such an expectant month and each year I am convinced that my longing for flowers and blooms has reached a new high.  This year is no exception and when T and I spied crocuses getting ready to bloom last weekend I couldn’t help myself from popping by today.  Things are coming along nicely.

Very nicely indeed.

Spring Adventures: D&R Canal in March

After some cold months, T and I are back to our weekend walks in the woods.  Last weekend, after a few days of unusual warmth, we headed to our favorite spot on the D&R Canal.  We like this location all the time, but especially at twilight this time of the year when the Spring peepers can be heard.  The canal is quiet at twilight and the reflection of the trees is lovely.  The trees are not yet ready to leaf out, but when I look closely the signs of Spring are there.

On this Saturday evening, as we got ready to turn our clocks ahead, the most hopeful sign of Spring was the sound of the peepers. Last year, the state had an 8 pm curfew and we were eager to do our part so we didn’t hear the peepers very much.  This year, feels more hopeful for a lot of reasons but especially because we could hear the peepers as we enjoyed the last of the sunlight.

Signs of Spring

The flowerbed alongside the garage in the back yard gets the most sunlight in the Sprig and it is here that I usually see the first signs of Spring flower bulbs making their appearance.  Last week, I took a walk to look for Spring and my hope was rewarded.

Spring is welcome every year but especially this year as vaccines are rolling out at a steady pace and it feels like after a very long year we are finally able to see a steady and growing light of hope.

Front Porch in March

Easter is the theme for this month and I am clearly ready for some Easter warmth, as I set out the decorations on the first of the month when plenty of snow could still be seen in the yard.  The cast iron bunny is back on duty for the coming warm days.

There is an Easter basket, my tin lamb,  and pastel colors to keep the bunny company.  The Easter wreath is on the door and the Easter flag is in the breeze.

The day’s light is steadily growing and with it comes the prospect of daffodils and crocuses later this month.  That is happy, y’all!

Sassafras Spring is Here!

As is my custom, I declared my own Spring this week.  My closet is swapped out and Winter’s wool, corduroy, and tights have been tucked away for the season, replaced by brighter colors and sneakers.  I even packed away my Winter coats in favor of some warmer weather models.  In every way that counts, I am ready for Spring.

Even the bedding was swapped, though here I am practical and have a down comforter now enveloped in a fern duvet.  Still quite warm for the cold nights but it looks like Spring.  

Should Winter decide to linger in an unpleasant fashion, my pride will keep me warm.

Old Man Tree: March 1

I always look forward to March because its arrival puts Spring so much closer.  By now, the days are steadily gaining sunlight; the time change is close; and there are usually signs of Spring blooms when I take the time to look closely.

I am the sort of person who does take the time to look closely; I am always eager for some sunlight and warmth.   Our snowy February was one for the record books and so much snow remains in the flowerbeds at my house that I can’t yet see the tips of crocuses and daffodils peaking through.  The branches of my trees have begun to form the small tight buds that signal the flowers that will proceed the leaves.

I know they are there and so does Old Man Tree, who looked beautiful draped in snow but I imagine longs for Spring as much as I do.