March 10, 2010

SPRING IS IN THE AIR and
how MAGICAL the AIR SMELLS and FEELS ! ! ! !

The SUN

is shining

the swing

was

YELLING

"Hang me . . .

you know

you want to start swinging

on me ! ! !"

It had spent

way to many cold days

lying on

the front porch

covered with snow.

As I looked

over the porch rail

(chorus's of

'Twas the Night Before Christmas,

stanza 4,

are shouting this in my head

so I MUST write it . . .)

. . .And what

to my wondering eyes

should appear

but a miniature crocus

so lovely and dear.

~with apologies to Clement Moore

So I went inside,

took the camera

out of Grandma Pearl's

Hoosier Cabinet

and started my

1st Signs of Spring

Photo Shoot.

I started on the porch . .

the sun was shining

just perfectly on the swing

I had just hung this morning.

When I hang this swing

it brings back so many memories

of growing up on Ottawa Street,

sitting on the porch

with Grandma and Mom

and swinging,

and swinging,

and swinging . . . .

To me

this has to be

THE BEST

way to spend my time outside.

When we moved to New York

I brought Grandma's swing with me.
(I have no idea how many years she had it but I cannot remember a time when it wasn't there.)

Then

when I moved back home to teach,

Mom gave me the swing'

for my own front porch . . .

a right of passage.

The nails started to pull away from the wood

and the wood

was too old

to take new nails

so I tied it together with twine.

Then I

swang

and swang,

and swang . . .

probably put on enough miles

to go back and forth

to Florida

more times than I could count.

When it was finally too worn out

to hold together anymore

with twine

I had to say goodbye.

It still brings tears to my eyes . . .

another part of my childhood

died with the swing

As it set out on the curb

waiting to be

collected

as trash . . . when it wasn't.

It was

the remnants of

a perfect childhood,

in a perfect home,

with perfect parents,

a perfect brother

and a grandmother

who loved me

to the ends

of the

Earth

and back.

(Well, she at least loved me to Florida and back but that is another post for a later time.)

Now,

time for what I started this post for

Signs Of Spring

This is the Weeping Pear Tree

that we plantes

from a sapling

(more like a bare twig)

the summer we moved in . . 2006

What do you think

of our

Cigarette Butt Garden?

Npow I know

why Dad got mad at Mom

when she flipped her butts

into the yard

HOW GROSS ! ! ! ! !

Closer view of the flower bead . . .

Can you see the 1st Crocus of Spring?

Look between the yellow plant marker

and oval rock.

You can just barely see

it peaking it's head out

behind them.

Here we have our 1st Hyacinth

popping her head up

through the

warm,

Western New York

soil.

(I couldn't believe an old plant markerpointed it out so well.)