Spring is my favorite season.
First of all, it means that weeks of being cold, and shivering and discomfort begin to melt away, and my senses are all soothed. My sense of touch is stroked by gentler breezes. The scent of sound is enhanced when I hear the early robins of spring announce the coming of warmer days. And I was always anxious to put my nose in early blooms once the smell of honeysuckle tickled my nose and like many children, I would pull out the middle part to taste the nectar of those tiny delicate blooms. But it was was eyes---they were always dazzled by the display of color. These sights of spring brought me the most, since in childhood.
Whether I was playing in my grandmother's garden, or preparing for a May crowing event at my local parish, the flowers always captivated my attention. There was something almost magical about the touch, the smell and the sight of flowers. At my small Catholic church parish, when we had our annual May Crowing ceremonies, flowers let us all know that something was truly going on.
May Crowning Ceremony, St. John the Baptist School, Ft. Smith, Arkansas
The sheer beauty of the Iris truly makes me stop! An when I see the multicolored ones, especially any that contain variations of purple, I can only stop in the tracks and be taken by the mere beauty of it all. This is nothing that human hands can create, and when I see the elegant soft velvety petals of a the purple Iris it truly takes my breath away!
Oh soft, subtle velvet iris, so elegantly you come.
Like an elegant dancer your fling your skirt
letting it ripple in the breeze, and your gentle top
flirts with the wind and tells the world
that you are simply beautiful!
The one flower though that always made me smile was the Jonquil. They bloomed in my yard and when they appeared, I knew that sweaters could be shed and I would soon feel warmth on my skin when I played. Jonquils are slightly different from other daffodils, as their stems are rounded and not flat, and I knew that when I saw them, so pretty, and so vibrantly yellow, once again, my time of childhood joy had come.
Easter varied from year to year on the calendar, and my memory of Easter was that I was often quite chilly. My father would insist that we take our pictures on Easter and I always remember standing in the yard shivering to take the Easter picture. Usually Easter always came before the Jonquils, and I was not yet warm.
Easter Morning, in the 1950s.
A post script---one of my favorite songs is by jazz artist, Betty Carter, who sings a beautiful ballad called "Spring Can Really Hang You Up, The Most".
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