Can you smell the seasons change?
Yeah. Sounds a bit cheesy. But as the snow melts and the daytime temperatures inch up into the 50s, the smells that are masked by the harshness of winter are released from their slumber slowly permeating the air. Just the other day when we had a fluke 65 degree day, I could smell the saturated topsoil while simultaneously hearing the snow on the roof melt and the resultant water flow down the gutter. You don't realize how energizing an experience that is until you go five months without it.
It is these sensory experiences that accompany spring that make this part of the year my favorite. Keep in mind that I write all this at the expense of it sounding like a sappy Robert Frost poem. Nothing against Robert Frost but poetry and me don't get along. I'm really bad with stanzas especially that 5-7-5 rule for Haiku.
March and early April is that time of the year that shows promise both meteorologically and in the amount of daylight we enjoy late in the day. (The earlier start to Daylight Saving Time thanks to the Energy Reform Act of 2005 is responsible for this). The one disheartening early spring fact of life is the color of the lawn. Snow mold as a result of a heavy snow pack seems like a cancer that only dissipates with time. Patience is not a virtue that I am blessed with when it comes to regaining my lawn's radiance. Even as the grass grows in April and May, the vestiges of this "cancer" remain. Around April 20th, I plan to bust out the garden rake and forcefully remove these "tumors". Whether or not they come willingly is entirely up to them.
As the weather improves, my indoor activities are slowly being phased out in place of more favorable things to do outside in the fresh air such as landscaping. But before I complete the switch, I need to finish a few books. One of which is a great book by a John Spanier, a current or past professor of Political Science ( I can't find him on The Web to find out for sure. Hell, he might be dead seeing that he wrote this book in 1973) at the University of Florida. I'll not go into a lengthy diatribe describing specific citations from the book. Let's just say that up through page 165, he has discussed the psychology of Cold War foreign policy from the third person point of view and how it changed from the end of World War II to the end of the Vietnam War. In essence, the Cold War political chess game dissected for your enjoyment. Sounds like a read for academic types but trust me, its pretty intriguing. At the rate that I'm going, this book, all 400+ pages of it, won't be done until August.
That brings me to my outdoor projects soon to begin once the permafrost softens up in the backyard. I've got a set of outdoor walking stones to put around the steps of the deck. And, the old outdoor basketball hoop is ready to go into the ground shortly thereafter.
Honestly, there was no real reason to write about any of this other than to post something as a transitionary essay to a topic that is really good. What that topic will be is any one's guess.
Yeah. Sounds a bit cheesy. But as the snow melts and the daytime temperatures inch up into the 50s, the smells that are masked by the harshness of winter are released from their slumber slowly permeating the air. Just the other day when we had a fluke 65 degree day, I could smell the saturated topsoil while simultaneously hearing the snow on the roof melt and the resultant water flow down the gutter. You don't realize how energizing an experience that is until you go five months without it.
It is these sensory experiences that accompany spring that make this part of the year my favorite. Keep in mind that I write all this at the expense of it sounding like a sappy Robert Frost poem. Nothing against Robert Frost but poetry and me don't get along. I'm really bad with stanzas especially that 5-7-5 rule for Haiku.
March and early April is that time of the year that shows promise both meteorologically and in the amount of daylight we enjoy late in the day. (The earlier start to Daylight Saving Time thanks to the Energy Reform Act of 2005 is responsible for this). The one disheartening early spring fact of life is the color of the lawn. Snow mold as a result of a heavy snow pack seems like a cancer that only dissipates with time. Patience is not a virtue that I am blessed with when it comes to regaining my lawn's radiance. Even as the grass grows in April and May, the vestiges of this "cancer" remain. Around April 20th, I plan to bust out the garden rake and forcefully remove these "tumors". Whether or not they come willingly is entirely up to them.
As the weather improves, my indoor activities are slowly being phased out in place of more favorable things to do outside in the fresh air such as landscaping. But before I complete the switch, I need to finish a few books. One of which is a great book by a John Spanier, a current or past professor of Political Science ( I can't find him on The Web to find out for sure. Hell, he might be dead seeing that he wrote this book in 1973) at the University of Florida. I'll not go into a lengthy diatribe describing specific citations from the book. Let's just say that up through page 165, he has discussed the psychology of Cold War foreign policy from the third person point of view and how it changed from the end of World War II to the end of the Vietnam War. In essence, the Cold War political chess game dissected for your enjoyment. Sounds like a read for academic types but trust me, its pretty intriguing. At the rate that I'm going, this book, all 400+ pages of it, won't be done until August.
That brings me to my outdoor projects soon to begin once the permafrost softens up in the backyard. I've got a set of outdoor walking stones to put around the steps of the deck. And, the old outdoor basketball hoop is ready to go into the ground shortly thereafter.
Honestly, there was no real reason to write about any of this other than to post something as a transitionary essay to a topic that is really good. What that topic will be is any one's guess.
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