Someone in my neighborhood is a little too excited about the arrival of spring.
I’m not sure who it is, but I know this: they must be stopped. Because when one neighbor gets a jump on yard work, the rest of us will have to fall in line or risk being talked about as scofflaws.
Spring doesn’t officially start until next weekend, but already at least one of our neighbors has been landscaping. I emerged from our house the other evening to the woodsy smell of mulch hanging in the air.
I’m not necessarily opposed to mulch. In fact, I welcome its aroma just as much as I delight in the first daffodils that bloomed at our house this week.
The daffodils are adding welcome color following the gray of winter. Our Bradford Pear trees will soon be brilliant as well. And I’m looking forward to saying hello to the tulips my wife planted last fall.
We think they are tulips, anyway. Neither one of us can remember exactly what she planted. We’ll find out when they come up to seek a little sunshine.
That’s the thing about nature. It doesn’t operate on a formal calendar like humans do.
I don’t expect whatever-it-is my wife planted to adhere to specific dates any more than I expect daffodils or Bradford Pear trees to observe the official start of spring.
They operate on their own time and in their own way.
But humans mark the passage of time with calendars for a reason.
I for one find them particularly useful, mostly because they keep me out of trouble. I have an appointment calendar on my smartphone to remind me of birthdays, anniversaries and holidays.
And, not only does it keep track of my schedule, it keeps me straight on wife’s schedule and our kids’ as well.
Without it, I would have misplaced my family a long time ago.
Calendars are important, so why have one if you’re not going to follow it?
The calendar says it is still winter, but the mulch I caught on the breeze this week has me thinking seriously about doing some spring chores around our house more than a week earlier than I think I should.
And that has led me to draw up urgent battle plans for our yard. It would be nice to have some grass growing among the weeds that have overrun it as if they were an invading army.
One day I will succeed in making our yard great again. Unfortunately, my track record is less than stellar.
The mulchy smell in the air around my house isn’t the only thing that has me fretting about spring chores a week early.
Daylight Saving Time is returning this weekend.
Much of the nation is set to lose an hour, but I refuse to lose anymore sleep than I have to over the yard battles that lie ahead.
At least, I won’t until next weekend when my calendar officially tells me spring has sprung.