Spring Fling


beeby C. Margery Kempe

I’ve been giving the side eye to the snow which has kept it away from upstate New York for the most part (other regions, sorry — my powers only extend so far). But I suspect that spring will be coming up just around the corner. In Scotland we’ve already got the crocuses and snowdrops popping up.

I think spring will hit the northeast with a bang.

Spring is a fever. Especially in the north. I lived in the south for some years and while it has its own seasons, they’re subtle (in Houston it was oh god, I’m dying from the heat and the humidity changing to oh god, I can breathe but it’s still too hot).

When winter means snow and lots of it (this year particularly so) as well as really cold temperatures, spring isn’t just a point on the calendar — it’s a reason to celebrate. You hunger for sun and warmth mentally and physically. I remember Michigan State Students in shorts on lawn chairs in the snow the moment it became sunny enough to try to work up a tan for spring break. Crazy, but why do you think it’s March Madness that made the hare go nuts?

That’s the real madness: love (or at least sex) is in the air.

We think we’re so sophisticated and civilized but it’s always been the same: we’re guided by the promptings of nature. Chaucer knew this back in the day. His famous opening lines to The Canterbury Tales demonstrates this spring fever:

WHAN that Aprille with his shoures soote
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,
And smale fowles maken melodye,
That slepen al the night with open ye,
(So priketh hem nature in hir corages:
Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages…

Chaucer knew what he was on about: April’s warm rain, March’s thirst for warmth, the plants springing up, the restless winds, the longer days, the cacophony of birds so excited by spring that they sleep all night with one eye open — and people just the same, getting restless and finding any pretext to abandon routine and meet new people.

How’s your spring fever coming along?

Don’t forget to follow Lady Smut — our pilgrimage explores all kinds of new territory.

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12 Comments

  • Kemberlee
    March 14, 2014 at 4:53 am

    I’m ready to bypass Spring and go right for summer. We haven’t had the snow that North America has had, but we’ve had more than our fair share of rain, cold, wind, and floods. It IS starting to look vaguely Springish though. The daffodils are starting to make their grand showing around the country. The 28th is National Daffodil Day here, as you know, so those harvests for flowers to buy for charity are under way. In my back garden, we have daffs, crocus, tulips, and I think hyacinth. Not totally sure, as the previous tenant spread about 8 million bulbs around the place. Only a few crocus have bloomed and the daffs are just coming on. In one patch, it’s just a bed of green leaves. I’m a bit doubtful as to what they are, but the rest of the plants are leafing out now — hypericum, fuchsia, roses, California lilac, etc. Even the clematis we bought to replace a dead one in a pot has come to life. Thought I killed it! Now, if the sky would just stay blue so the sunshine can get through!

    Do you think all this snow in North America means a warm Summer? Or will the snow just melt, leaving you with mud and cold weather?

    • C. Margery Kempe
      March 14, 2014 at 9:22 am

      There was a good bit of rain that got rid of a good bit of snow here in NY but now it’s so frigging cold it’s all solid again. I can’t wait to see which bulbs survived — and to plant the new ones I got in Holland.

      • Kemberlee
        March 14, 2014 at 10:30 am

        Yikes! Be careful on that ice. Worst stuff. Established bulbs are pretty hearty. Did you bring tulips from Holland or daffs, or?

  • Madeline Iva
    March 14, 2014 at 7:39 am

    In the North, Spring can leave me depressed for some reason. It seems to undergo such birth pangs before it’s finally born. But I like it better than places like Texas and California, where it’s about a week of hurrah and then it’s gone. Definitely spring is best in parts of the South where it’s actually spring at the right time, and it goes crazy with bloomage for about a month. That’s a proper spring to me.

    • Kemberlee
      March 14, 2014 at 7:53 am

      I’m originally from Northern CA. It’s gorgeous up there. Greener than SoCA. At the moment, the state is suffering from drought, but most of the time, NorCA is alive with color.

  • LizEverly
    March 14, 2014 at 11:34 am

    We are expecting snow (again) on Monday! Not happy!

    • C. Margery Kempe
      March 14, 2014 at 11:42 am

      We had a wee bit, but I am giving my laser angry eyes.

  • Kel
    March 14, 2014 at 11:39 am

    This spring approach has been exceptionally difficult for me. In part, this is because I recognized in November that my lack of Motorcycle was reaching critical mass and determined that I would be buying one for my birthday (at the end of March) and in part because there were a few 50 degree days in a row that prompted my “motorcycle time” hind-brain to start firing.

    It has not been made any easier by the fact that I’ve also been determined to be less sluggish in the rest of my life and so feel like I’m waking up at the same time that the snow is melting. I’m going bike shopping tomorrow, so hopefully that settles me down some… but I expect there’s going to be an underlying sense of expectant frenzy until I manage to take a long enough trip to need to change my oil at least once.

  • Author Charmaine Gordon
    March 15, 2014 at 9:11 am

    Lovely post. My motto is since we can’t control the weather and so many other happenings, find better substitutes. Gardening will still be there but my stories abound and imagination carries me through this icy winter in NY.

  • C. Margery Kempe
    March 19, 2014 at 4:06 pm

    Reblogged this on C. Margery Kempe.

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