Welcome Back Mr. Wilbur

Looking out the front window, I couldn’t wait to take my walk. Not like the day was calling to me. Sadly, the clouds hung wearily like heavy eyelids with heavy shadows underneath.

Approaching the storm door, it suddenly flew open. A gust of wind laced with crystallized snow bit my cheeks and tingled my teeth.  Hmm… stay home, no way.  I cast aside my light jogging coat and reached for the knee-length down, triple-zippered, fully hooded, water-resistant red jacket.

 A serious garment.  I was now ready. 

As I stepped out the door, icy rain clung to my eyelids, fiercely trying to dissuade me. Mounds of dirty snow hedged all around, nearly waist high. Nodding, I laughed out loud.  No problem. Because yesterday they reached over my head. But not today.

Instead, as I watched, these mounds were melting into spreading patches of watery snow with green grass poking through.  

Our newly acquired tree from our town, Mr. Wilbur, seemed to be smiling as the snow became puddles. Yes, our lovely red maple tree with wiry branches was piercing through its winter encasement.  

Onward to Spring.

Or was this a momentary tease with yet another huge snowy storm at our door?

Not to worry. Today’s weather forecast promised that blizzards were behind us and warming temps with awesome sunshine were upon us.  So why was I still shivering? I held out my dark, gloved hand as snowflakes landed upon it, wondering if I had stepped into Alaska instead of my familiar neighborhood.  

Hmm… then I realized what the calendar people said is true. March begins like a lion with happy shouts and shrill screams.  Then I turn the corner on a street boasting a small hill with a dozen or so wintry-suited kids.  They were sledding down an icy slope on sleds, metal saucers and cardboard planks.  All were whooping and hollering at the top of their lungs. 

Hmm… not for me. 

As I turned to leave, photos from long ago hit me like giant hail balls. Then I remembered. There was a time when frolics like this beckoned me. When I was a younger version, I couldn’t wait to throw myself down the neighborhood hill, screaming and yelling.  It was great fun!  Then I grew up and I moved to adult things. Ugh, until the children came along… one, two, three, four. Then the fun times returned!

How we all loved those wintry days.  No school buses to climb into, no sitting at a desk, no homework to trudge through.  Instead, snow suits were unloaded from deep closets and each of my children were zippered into the oversized garments.  All with shouts of glee, out and into the snow we went.

The next hurrah came in the spring.  Snow shovels were replaced with baseball bats and special footwear.  Both my daughters played softball and two sons played baseball. The older daughter played the field, so to speak, by swinging the bat, pitching, and fielding for teams of baseball and softball. Both girls played with gusto and spirit.

The boys also made their mark.   Both were pitchers and decent fielders who could also hit. Once the end of March came, we were booked almost every weeknight traveling to games around town.  Watching these games was such a memorable treat, even with some being nailbiters. But cheering them on to play their very best was a wonderful time for me.

There were a couple of “changeups” as my children delved into other sports.  The boys bowled duckpins. My daughters took on grade school soccer.  And our younger daughter surprised us by taking dance lessons. 

She had some delightful recitals that showcased a different sport… one of engaging footwork and poise.  Comfortable in a recital hall, she danced gracefully to our delight.

Now, finishing my rigorous walk, I stepped into the front yard, the sun warming my hair and heart.  All those thoughts of long ago now flipped to the current moment.

I looked up at Mr. Wilbur.  

Ahhh... The warmer temps had melted the remaining snow.  In a hopeful greeting, a determined breeze swept through the Dogwood tree’s delicate branches. Yes, spring again was making a gleeful appearance.  

Looking up, the sun pierced through puffy clouds, strong and masterful. I chuckled as one branch lightly swooped down with a tiny green leaf twittering in the breeze.

The lion had become the lamb.

… “and that’s how I live it.”