1) Why is summer already crowding in on my jubilation of spring? I waited six months for spring, the least it could do is let me revel in the warm sun and newness of life without breaking into a sweat. Because, to be completely honest, once I knew that I was leaving Texas for Pennsylvania, I was elated to finally experience all FOUR seasons. I guess, as most high expectations go, I was fooled into thinking that out of twelve months, each quarter would be a different season. I realize now the folly. It's six months of winter, two months of autumn, three months of summer and one month of spring. I should be happy considering I came from seven months of sweltering summer, one month of coolish autumn, three months of winter that combines the look of the frozen dead with temperatures normally reserved for the months of autumn/spring, and one month of something, I'm not sure what, that rounds out the year. I would like to see my flowers bloom before the temperature hits 85 degrees. That really does not sound like too much to ask. Is it?
2)Why don't my children understand Spring the way I want them to? Evelynn is a bit of a conundrum regarding spring. Yesterday, the windows were open and the breeze was flowing through the house that has been closed up tight for six months. It was lovely. The smells of the neighbors tulips, the large trees in bloom beside our house, the blooms from the tree across the street and even the fresh smell of laundry from my dryer vent outside wafted through my home, rejuvenating the spring in my step and pushing out the walls that had been closing in on me in recent weeks. "Isn't this amazing?" I asked Evelynn. Her answer, "My room stinks. What is that smell?" That smell is called 'freshness' and it comes from the tree outside her window... and she doesn't like it. She cannot be my child.
There is also the curious way Evelynn and Caelan refuse to acknowledge the science of how flowers grow. No matter how many times I've explained the process, they have chosen not to believe that flowers grow from seeds. Now as the 'flowers' they have picked are crammed back into the dirt in the backyard, I'm waiting for the moment when it dawns on them that they will not grow. Not to mention that I doubt their father wants dandelions planted in the garden.
They also don't seem to understand that flowers last much longer when not picked for enjoyment. I hope they learn that before my peonies and hydrangeas bloom, but maybe the lesson will be better learned if they try to pick my roses... hmmm...
