"Spring is sprung, the grass is riz.|
I wonders where the boidies is.
They say the boid is on the wing.
Ain't that absoid?
I always thought the wing was on the boid."
That's one humorous writer's take on the season that arrived late last week. Some say Ogden Nash wrote the words. Others attribute them to British comedian Spike Milligan, but that seems unlikely because of the Bronx accent . So, I will offer the words simply as coming from an anonymous source.
There are plenty of other words about spring, however, that can be traced to their authors.
"Is the spring coming?" write Frances Hodgson Burnett in "The Secret Garden." "What is it like? ... It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine."
Surely the character into whose mouth Burnett placed this dialog must have spent significant time living in any of the northern states in which people live out their ever-changing lives asking "Don't like the weather? Wait five minutes ..."
Mark Twain made dealing with spring weather a quantifiable quandary.
"In the spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather," he once claimed, "inside of four and 20 hours."
Other writers have been more positive about the season.
"Spring is the time for plans and projects," Leo Tolstoy once wrote in "Anna Karenina."
In "Bluebeard's Egg," Margaret Atwood expressed that sentiment more graphically. "In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt."
In the interest of full disclosure, I should note that repeating those words has made me remember all the plans I've made for spring and has forced me to take down and hide the chores list I tacked to the front of my refrigerator.
Spring is supposed to be a happy season, which looks to the future.
"Springtime is the land awakening," humorist Lewis Grizzard wrote in "Kathy Sue Loudermilk, I Love You." "The March winds are the morning yawn."
Comedian Robin Williams sums up the season in his typically hyperactive manner.
"Spring is nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!'"
Thanking the Deity
For the sake of dignity, this appears to be the time to let 1800s American writer Albert Laighton wax poetic.
"Where man sees but withered leaves,
God sees sweet flowers growing."
Spring, believe those with faith, is a season to be optimistic. As spring unfolds, look around. Have hope. Temperatures will rise. The mud will be gone. Beauty will arrive. Trust in the annual change of the season.
"You can't see Canada across Lake Erie, but you know it's there," California writer Paul Fleischman once explained. "It's the same with spring. You have to have faith, especially in Cleveland."
Gary Brown writes for The (Canton, Ohio) Repository.