With both the Ides and St. Patrick’s Day behind us I was looking forward to the arrival of Spring. However, upon returning to north Georgia from our milder coast I was in for a surprise. Seems Mother Nature decided not to start winter here without me!! As flattering as that might have been my ready-to-bloom iris plants were appalled. We had cold, rain, freeze as if it were January and not the middle of March. I stayed inside until it returned to the 60s which was yesterday.
I could have used a volume of Walt Whitman to read but alas and alack, as they say, my personal library consists of mostly history books. I do have one book of poetry by my late nephew but his writing, though quite excellent, tends to prod one to despair as well as deep thoughts. An example comes to mind:
“I climbed upon a steepled church to view the world from such a perch.
So high was I when I did fall
that nothing now I see at all.
Quite dead am I beneath the wall.”
Not light reading by any means. Then I recalled from memory a Whitman-like poem written by my late mother and used it as my mantra until the wintry blasts passed. I had to rely on memory because if she ever published it, I don’t own a copy. As I recall it went like this:
“There’s a hustle and a bustle now among the forest folk
Old Mother Nature’s spoke to them that’s why they have awoke.
She said, 'Get up and dress yourselves or ere you will be late.
I saw a nest of Robbins today so Spring is at the gate'….”
It goes on for many stanzas but that beginning is all I recall. It helped. If any forest folk see this you might want to heed her words.