Spring Has Sprung

“Spring has sprung, the grass has riz, I wonder where the flowers is.”

Before he died in May, 2019 at the age of 104, my dad recited this little poem to me every spring. For me spring has always been a time of renewal, even in Los Angeles where no one has ever needed a snow shovel.  Although, I do remember that day in the early 1950s when an inch of snow covered the ground one January morning. Sadly, it all melted while I was taking my piano lesson – so I never got the chance to play in it.

This year I’m seeing a lot of new green buds pushing into the sunlight, but I’m still waiting for many of the flowers to bloom.

Hopefully, along with winter, the pandemic is on its way out in most areas of the country, especially as we are able to spend more time outdoors and more people get vaccinated.  Airlines are reporting advance reservations in almost pre-pandemic numbers, and when I recently tried to make reservations at Yellowstone for this summer, the facilities were already fully booked for July and August.

I’m looking forward to a productive year, with special thanks to my dad, who taught me how to garden, and who brought poetry, wisdom, and so many flowers into my life.

As a friend wrote in signing my high school yearbook, “Yours until the Hollywood Bowl has soup.”

Love,

Alan