How do you know when it is really-o, truly-o, actually the end of winter?
Some look for the arrival of robins.
Others await the blossoming of the crocus.
Some just go by feel, or maybe watch the exterior temperature.
Some just wait for the day on the calendar that says. "First Day of Spring".
All the above observations and conclusion are justified; as for me, I think the season's measure comes with two consecutive weekends of lawn mowing. Today, was Weekend #2 of cutting the grass. Spring has Sprung. It is official.
As I was cutting the grass last week for the first time since February; I thought back several years when it was a dilemma as to whether I should cut the backyard lawn on Easter weekend. Easter is when the fresh new grass (and a lot more weeds than I care to admit) has lept up tall and green and almost always "needs" cutting before Easter Week. But, in years past, if I cut the grass, where would the Easter Bunny and Easter Iguana hide the eggs? My annual solution to this dilemma?: The grass always stayed long and obscuringly shaggy for Easter Sunday.
This year's Easter Sunday grass was still shaggy, but there were no hidden eggs behind tuffs of dandelions or obscured plastic egg-encased Peeps tucked under leaves or goodie-filled eggs stashed under the long grass at the base of the magnolia tree. This Easter my backyard was disappointingly ordinary. It was no longer a dewy wonderland visited in the earliest morning hours by the Easter Bunny and the Iguana who transformed the turf into an enchanting treasure hunt for the fancied colored eggs. And when the egg hunters returned with brimming baskets and asked, "Did we get them all?" Then all that was found was counted, but the total was still under the limit because of those especially cleverly hidden and hard-to-find eggs. Then, we the parents were prodded into a game of; "You're getting warm, you're getting hotter! Oh, you are now getting colder... warmer, warmer.., red hot!" set of clues.
I hear these days that the Easter Bunny is busy at other locations stirring great anticipation for another generation of egg hunters. And around here the Easter Bunny is just an old hare that slips into the store and picks up a few Easter candies at 50% off sale and unceremoniously drops off the chocolates on the kitchen counter. No basket, no dyed eggs, just a good sale.
Today I was merely rejoicing in the fragrant Spring smell of fresh cut grass and the vivid greens of new invigorated life. And while pushing the humming power mower and making my orderly passes over the shaggy growth in the side yard this afternoon, what was it that caught my eye? Why is was
Some look for the arrival of robins.
Others await the blossoming of the crocus.
Some just go by feel, or maybe watch the exterior temperature.
Some just wait for the day on the calendar that says. "First Day of Spring".
All the above observations and conclusion are justified; as for me, I think the season's measure comes with two consecutive weekends of lawn mowing. Today, was Weekend #2 of cutting the grass. Spring has Sprung. It is official.
As I was cutting the grass last week for the first time since February; I thought back several years when it was a dilemma as to whether I should cut the backyard lawn on Easter weekend. Easter is when the fresh new grass (and a lot more weeds than I care to admit) has lept up tall and green and almost always "needs" cutting before Easter Week. But, in years past, if I cut the grass, where would the Easter Bunny and Easter Iguana hide the eggs? My annual solution to this dilemma?: The grass always stayed long and obscuringly shaggy for Easter Sunday.
This year's Easter Sunday grass was still shaggy, but there were no hidden eggs behind tuffs of dandelions or obscured plastic egg-encased Peeps tucked under leaves or goodie-filled eggs stashed under the long grass at the base of the magnolia tree. This Easter my backyard was disappointingly ordinary. It was no longer a dewy wonderland visited in the earliest morning hours by the Easter Bunny and the Iguana who transformed the turf into an enchanting treasure hunt for the fancied colored eggs. And when the egg hunters returned with brimming baskets and asked, "Did we get them all?" Then all that was found was counted, but the total was still under the limit because of those especially cleverly hidden and hard-to-find eggs. Then, we the parents were prodded into a game of; "You're getting warm, you're getting hotter! Oh, you are now getting colder... warmer, warmer.., red hot!" set of clues.
I hear these days that the Easter Bunny is busy at other locations stirring great anticipation for another generation of egg hunters. And around here the Easter Bunny is just an old hare that slips into the store and picks up a few Easter candies at 50% off sale and unceremoniously drops off the chocolates on the kitchen counter. No basket, no dyed eggs, just a good sale.
Today I was merely rejoicing in the fragrant Spring smell of fresh cut grass and the vivid greens of new invigorated life. And while pushing the humming power mower and making my orderly passes over the shaggy growth in the side yard this afternoon, what was it that caught my eye? Why is was
a purple plastic egg next to the irises.
| Easter Iguana Surprises me this year |
I laughed, The Easter Iguana still remembers me! It is Eastertide! The Mystery and the unexpected do indeed live!
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