Springtime in Massachusetts

As the sun bleaches the last stains of darkness out of the sky, we awaken to the sounds of Springtime in Massachusetts ....

The squeal of ladders being raised and adjusted. The hum of buzz saws and jigsaws and hacksaws and radial saws. The growl of lawnmowers and weed trimmers. The screams of workers and homeowners falling off ladders and cutting off their buzzes, jigs, hacks, and radials. The wail of ambulances as they whisk victims off to the hospital ....

The first robin I spotted was wearing ear plugs ....



Around here, Spring arrives tardy without any apologies or notes from parents. 'I'm young, I'm beautiful, I'm here,' she announces breezily.

We are at the end of the flowering fruit tree stage, meaning I can still see as well as hear the construction going on behind us. At first I couldn't figure out what they were doing, and then Dawn Broke Over Marblehead: They are Tearing Down The Back Bump-out; they are Making Their House Smaller. That must be it ....

This construction/deconstruction merits a walk up the hill to investigate exactly what is going on. It will also allow me to see exactly how far into our neighbors' properties the dandelions from our lawn have spread.

I think I will confine my neighborhood walks to upwind streets .....

Spring brings with her a welcome entourage of street sweepers. They lumber through their rounds like atavistic orange dinosaurs, first collecting the sand-filled drums stationed halfway up the big hills in town, then vacuuming all the sand, salt, soil and other debris away. Unfortunately, they don't do interiors ....

Spring also rolls out a carpet of allergens and then sets about installing it in our nasal passages. She doesn't care; a sneeze is just a tiny squall of wind and rain, a pollination variation ....  "'Tis the season to be sneezin'," she sings ....

Spring flirts with us, showing up one day and disappearing the next, living up to her reputation as unpredictable.

But no matter, we always forgive her, give her another chance. Spring is a collective sigh of relief that we made it through another long New England winter.
















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