Spring
in the prairies
is pretty
ugly.
As a child
I remember
flipping through
my mom’s spring magazines
from the states
and seeing the glossy pages
full of budding hyacinths,
and snow-white bunnies
nosing amongst
sun-dappled daffodils
and I thought,
as I donned my rubber boots
and winter toque,
that spring is nothing like that
here.
Spring here is ugly.
Full of fits and starts.
Golden and promising one day
and the next
a record breaking blizzard.
Spring in the prairies is like
the ugly duckling stage,
between cute and fluffy
and beautiful and graceful.
All nature goes through it
I remember
12 year old me,
all arms and legs,
super awkward,
with cute little girl,
far behind
and confident woman
far, far ahead.
It can get monotonous.
All that waiting
for the yet to be.
In-between times.
We’d rather live without them.
Without the unknown
between jobs,
without the consistency and fortitude required
to complete the potty training,
without the strained how-do-you-dos
in a new town.
In-betweens can be ugly.
Awkward.
But really,
we can’t jump over,
we can’t skip
the in betweens.
The in-between gets us
to where we really want to be.
Spring in the prairies
is long and drawn out,
but then there comes a suddenly moment.
And suddenly it’s summer.
Nature pushes fast-forward,
after being on pause way too long,
and earth erupts in green
and we dive into it
full tilt
for four glorious months
and we forget all about
the awkward ugly
of spring.
The challenge
during an ugly spring,
is to find the beauty
in it.
It sometimes takes
a lot of creativity.
This is what I love about spring
in the prairies…
- The running water.
The smell sends me back
to the child me,
cracking ice and caking cold mud.
All that dirty, cold snow,
it melts real slow.
But the water goes deep
into earth’s thawing pores.
We don’t get much rain
most summers,
so all this slow melting,
is necessary
for all that sudden green
we long for.
- The smell of BBQ on the air.
The smell is actually a summer smell
so it defies the snow.
And tough Canadians like us
plop our dusty beach chairs by snow banks
and eat hamburgers and hotdogs
outside for the first time in forever.
- The people.
They come out of nowhere.
No more hiding in their warm, bright homes,
Because the world is warm and bright now,
earth is habitable again.
Bikes and buggies
and laughing teens,
their jackets tied carefree
around their waists.
- The birds.
The winter birds have always been cheery.
But now the spring birds have come back.
I thought I heard a robin yesterday.
They are not deterred by post-Easter snow storms,
The geese got here a month ago.
I wonder how they view all this…
- The first moment when
the sun falls
like a warm,
friendly arm
across my shoulders.
- How light my feet feel
when I can walk
without boots
for the first time
in 6 months.
- Pre-mosquito season.
In the spring
we bare our Vitamin D hungry skin
bravely.
Come May
long sleeves
will be required again.
- Pussy willows.
The leaves still have their parkas on.
They’ve been waiting like that for at least a month..
I remember a sign of spring in the prairies was
tromping through knee high snow with mom
to cut them down for décor in the house.
Now I decorate my classroom
and my students stroke them repeatedly
like little baby bunnies.
A grade 2 girl looked out
at the snowy school field the other day
and said,
“I wonder what colour the grass will be
when the snow melts.”
I wearily responded,
“Yellow. Brown. Dead.”
But then I continue.
I must continue
because it’s all a matter
of perspective.
She needs to know.
“But then, all that moisture,
it waters the new grass seeds
underneath,
and all the new grass will come up
and overtake the old grass
and it will be green again.”
It will be green again.
You can do it.
You can get through this
ugly, awkward spring.
New life awaits,
just below
the surface.
sacred rest 