As much as I love spring in California, my fondest memories of this special season are embedded in the days of my childhood. I grew up on a farm in a remote area of Southern Illinois. It seems that one day we would be layered in winter clothing bracing ourselves against a cold north wind and suddenly, all the people, plants and creatures of the world were waking up together. It was time to prepare for summer.
My first goal was to get a new dress and shoes for Easter Sunday. Sometimes I didn't get a brand new dress, but I always got new shoes. I knew my mother would pick out white sandals, and I couldn't wait to go shopping for them. It was fun to go to church on Easter Sunday, because everyone came that day...even those who usually missed church on regular Sundays. Everyone seemed happy and even the preacher's message was happy as it was all about being born again and the rising of Jesus. A pleasant change from the hell's fire and damnation sermons heard during the revivals at our little country church.
My second goal was to get my mother's permission to go barefoot. She would always tell me I had to wait until the earth warmed up. I loved the feeling of warm grass between my toes when she finally gave her approval. On rainy days, I could even walk in mud puddles and not have to worry about wearing my rubber boots over shoes. My shoes were cast aside only to be worn again to church and sometimes for short trips into a little country store five miles away.
The sunshine of spring seemed to bring hope to the whole community. Farmers hoped for a good crop season. Those who were ill hoped sitting in the sun would make them feel better, and the families of those at death's door hoped they would make it through another summer. I simply wanted to make the long hot summer days last forever. I knew that before the summer was over, we would hunt mushrooms in the woods nearby and pick plump juicy blackberries off the blackberry bushes. Soon my dad would start working on the garden, and we would all join in to help. Since I was the baby, I always got the easy assignments sometimes much to my frustration. I wanted to plant and hoe and do everything that my daddy did in the garden. He always made sure to dig some holes for me to plant as he hovered over me. Soon I would be walking through the garden grazing as I picked fresh tomatoes off the vine and if noone was looking, I would grab a baby ear of corn and sweet peas.
The wild life came out of their winter hiding places in the springtime and seemed to always have a new family in tow. I especially loved watching baby rabbits hop across the freshly plowed fields. Sometimes I would chase them. Occasionally, my brother would find a nest of baby rabbits when he was helping my dad farm. He would bring them home to me, so I would become preoccupied with trying to keep them alive for the summer. Once he actually uncovered a fox den. That created a lot of excitement for sure.
There was always something going on on the farm to entertain me, although we didn't have a television and most of the books I owned I had read several times. I loved it when we would get new comic books. Sometimes the neighbor lady stopped by on her way to town to see if Mother wanted anything. If she invited me along, I usually ended up with bubble gum or an ice cream cone. If I was real lucky, I could talk my parents into driving me into town on Saturday nights to watch a cowboy movie projected onto the side of a building. Hop a Long Cassidy and Roy Rogers were two of my favorite movie stars. I never imagined that someday I would move so far away from home and would visit the Roy Roger's museum. I could spend an hour lying on the ground watching ants build a mound, granddaddy long legs moving about or a butterfly flittering from plant to plant. I would search for baby kittens if a Mama cat came by, because I knew they were hidden somewhere nearby. There wasn't a tree too tall to climb if there was a bird's nest in it. I would peer into the nest to see if there were eggs. I remember being told not to touch the eggs, because the Mama bird might abandon the nest. Sometimes the temptation was too much, and I would bring the nest down to see if they would hatch without the mother bird. Soon Mother would go to town and pick up some baby chicks. I loved watching and listening to them until they started to get feathers. When the feathers came, I knew they would soon be on the dinner table.
Sometimes on really hot days my mother would make a sandwich for me, put some ice tea in a thermos and I would sit under a tree reading a book while eating my lunch. Often I could be found lying down in the warm grass next to my grandmother's Easter flowers while watching the fluffy clouds float across the sky. When my brother was around, we would try to identify the images. Some looked like animals and some looked like people's faces. Sometimes I just lay there imagining a future...a happy future.
Oh yeah...those were special times. Now as springtime arrives in San Diego, it is much the same as it was then. Well, there is one difference. Then I was dreaming about my future. Today I am pondering my past. And I am hoping for more time and long summer days with my husband.
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