Down on the Farm

It’s a real nice day down on the farm. The daffodils and yellow tulips in the round-about planter are still real pretty despite the torrential rains we’ve been having. Azaleas are starting to bloom. Maple trees are showing pale green and that odd orange color of early spring that precedes their dumping great volumes of pollen into the air. The redbud trees have reached the peak of perfection. The dogwoods are opening up to become balls of white.

Of course we know what is right around the corner. Today’s high is supposed to be 69 but by Monday they’re predicting a high of 49 with a low of 35. Hello dogwood winter. Every year it does this, regular as clockwork. We have more or less spring (this year spring has been pretty long lasting) and then some super nice weather fooling folks into setting out tomatoes and peppers then boom! Winter descends on us with frost nipping the buds from the fruit trees and blackening those poor tender vegetable plants. Then it warms back up. You really believe this time, you buy more tomato plants, pack your winter clothes in the old cedar chest and get out your shorts and tank tops. Boom! Blackberry winter hits and it will be cold all over again.

Here in the southern tip of the Appalachian mountains, blackberry winter is pretty much the official end of spring. One day you’ll be shivering under a wool comforter and the next it will be hot as that place the tent meeting evangelists used to rant about when you were a kid and forced to sit hours on a hard metal folding chair under a brown canvas tent with the only breezes supplied by ladies vigorously fanning themselves with those cardboard fans that advertised the local funeral home.

You have to wonder if there was some kind of implied message there. Fan so the heatstroke don’t get you but you’re gonna die anyway and when you do call this number and we’ll take care of your body while your soul roasts if you haven’t made your way to the front to cry a long time and get saved, sanctified, and petrified, praise the Lord!

The preacher would intersperse his rantings with loud insucking of wind. “Don’t find yourself, haaaaaack on your deathbed, haaaaaaack breathing, haaaaaaack your very last, haaaaaaack unrepented, haaaaaaack and God says to you, haaaaaaack you done had your chances, haaaaaaack at the summer camp meeting, haaaaaaack but you have committed, haaaaaaack the unpardonable sin, haaaaaaack of turning your back, haaaaaaack one too many, haaaaaaack times, haaaaaaack and now it’s time, haaaaaaack to face your maker, haaaaaaack a sinner, haaaaaaack in the, haaaaaaack hands, haaaaaaack of an angry God! Haaaaaaack…”

But for now it's spring and it is beautiful. Gram’s little mystery shrubs have tiny leaves that will soon be big enough to identify what her daughters have planted there in her garden. Today would be a mighty fine day to go up on the sundeck and lay naked on the dark grey tile floor and soak in the warmth both from the sun above and from the dark tiles beneath.

I reckon I’d best make the most of this day cause as we all know, winter is about to descend on us again.

Note: I added the picture and it made the fonts go crazy. Darned if I know. I'll just pretend it adds charm to the post.