There was an explosion in Washington Grove. Earlier, there were a few tender crocuses, but this week there was a burst of yellows, pinks, and whites. The front of our house and our neighbors’ Steve and Ann across the road looks like a sea of daffodils with a creek of asphalt running between them. It is a lopsided sea to be sure, as they have planted twice as many flowers as we have but what our flowers lack in numbers they make up for with exuberance.
My namesake cherry trees, for which I have a special affection, are drooling blossoms all over the place, some already in pink puddles at their feet. The magnolias, whose sweet scent is the very smell of spring to me, are cascades of decadent petals.
Of particular interest to me are the green shoots now appearing on my two fig trees in the back yard. Last year we had a bountiful harvest of five or six sweet figs. Not enough to make a pot of jam never mind a sleeve of Fig Newtons but thrilling nonetheless. The earthy smell of fig leaves reminds me of rafting down the Jordan in Israel with college students trying to knock each other out of the rafts and squealing with delight bumping through what passes for ‘rapids’ on that river.
The humans walking or biking down our street in increasing numbers are also decked in their spring finery. Gone are the hats and mittens and in their places, light windbreakers, yoga pants, even shorts. Yesterday, a little girl in bright pink shoes led her parents and a younger brother being pulled in a wagon between the daffodils her arms in the air like Moses parting the sea.
With one of us now vaccinated and the other (the younger one) waiting patiently for his dose, this Maryland couple is planning for the first journey out into the world since our brief weekend camping at Lake Anna in Virginia in early March.
Over the winter we purchased a used Toyota Sienna minivan and we had this dude that we found in Colorado convert it into a camper van. It is a simple affair. There is no bathroom. The ‘kitchen’ which lives under the rear hatch is really just a place to organize the cooking camping gear, like the trusty Coleman stove I bought in an Army surplus store in the Delaware Water Gap one summer vacation and the fire engine red lantern I bought on eBay. In short, we will be camping much as we always have but with a mattress to sleep on instead of the ground, something that appeals to this collection of old bones.
The State of New York recently completed the Empire State Trail which runs from Manhattan to the Canadian border with a leg that runs from Albany to Buffalo along the Erie Canal. Barbara and I biked the canal bit in the summer of 2016, an 8-day supported ride through the heart of New York State. A highlight was the Oz Museum in Chittenango, a town where L. Frank Baum lived for a few years.
This spring, Barbara will ride from Manhattan to Canada while I provide the support. She will start riding in the morning and the plan is for me to drive to the next campsite in the van and then bike back toward her meeting up somewhere in between and then biking back to camp together. If I am able to do a third of the distance that my Ironman triathlete partner does, I’ll be more than satisfied.
For the first time ever, we are making some camping reservations. Sales of campers, RVs, and equipment have been through the pop-top and I suspect that parks will be crowded this summer as many become brave enough to travel again but still not comfortable with getting on planes and trains.
It is exciting to see people wanting to get outside and into nature. Spring is our wakeup call. A square meter of earth contains more drama that all of Netflix. Spring doesn’t arrive everywhere at the same time. If the green hasn’t reached you yet, continue waiting patiently and when it is your turn, grab your vernal shot in the arm and leaf out. The long winter is ending.