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What? Again?

It is snowing again!  May 1st and I woke to snow!  It hasn’t stopped all day – supposed to go on into tomorrow.  Trees are bending and breaking under the weight; not unlike my patience.

I admit, I am a creature raised in warm and gentle places.  This High Plains climate of long winters and short everything else seems weird to me, out of synch, strangely askew.  I keep looking at the calendar and the long days of Spring and thinking I should be out fussing in a garden; not a good choice in a place where anything foolish enough to put out shoots, much less flowers, before Mother’s Day is likely to get a very rude reception.

To that point, we had a tender raspberry plant arrive in the mail while we were on vacation.  We ordered it from an eastern nursery a few months ago.  It was, in part, out of defiance to the snow, but, mostly in hope of marvelous Summer compotes and Autumn jams.  The nursery cheerfully assured us they would not ship it until just the right moment; that it would arrive when our land was safely free of frost; and that it would, therefore, shower us with an embarrassing abundance of luscious, sunny red berries.

Instead, it arrived, very much in need of planting, a few days before this cursed snow storm!  So, you can imagine my panic when the forecast assured me that a cold, wet blanket was going to cover all the living things here one more time.

There I was last night, barefoot, in the dark, stringing wires and arranging lights to provide heat for our tender new friend; then tenting the whole affair in plastic and finishing it off with an old, holey wool blanket, as though it were a child or a sickly old pup.

I haven’t gone out back to check on it since I came home.  I’ll wait until the snow is gone and then see if there is any life left.  Instead, I will pop up a bowl of popcorn, turn on a good movie and, like Ms. Rossetti, comfort myself with hopeful thoughts of Spring.

A Wintry Sonnet

“A Robin said: The Spring will never come,
And I shall never care to build again.
A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome,
My sap will never stir for sun or rain.
The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow,
I neither care to wax nor care to wane.
The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago,
Because earth’s rivers cannot fill the main. —
When Springtime came, red Robin built a nest,
And trilled a lover’s song in sheer delight.
Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the Rose with might
Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core.
The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest,
Dimpled his blue, yet thirsted evermore.”
Christina Rossetti

One Response

  1. Ug! Snow in May. How cruel!

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