2018 April - I Know It's Spring Because...

I know it's Spring because even though we had a snowy Nor'easter on March 21st, it said right there on the calendar:  'Vernal Equinox'.

And, I know it's really Spring because on March 30th, I heard the Peepers for the first time from the pond across the street announcing it.

And, it must be Spring because NPR's annual Spring Fund Drive was on the radio every time I turned it on.  

Therefore, the birdbath heaters are packed up for the season, the fountain is running again on the back porch and the hummingbird feeders have been rehung with a fresh batch of homemade nectar, waiting to catch the first returning traveler.  The yard furniture is out for Spring guests and mesclun mix lettuce seeds have been planted and covered with plastic because on Cape Cod, the danger of frost extends to May 1st for planting, and these are ALL Spring Things.

If we tell you how it works, it will ruin the magic.

Other than that, anything's possible.

See what I mean, and the flurries continued.

April in New England is much like ripping off Winter's bandaid.  You just have to take a peek to see how things are doing, but it needs a little more time to look like it did before it went under cover.  Although many see Winter as some kind of punishment, I see it similar to a forced nap to recharge, like children are made to take when their positive energy is spent.  Winter prunes harshly and impersonally, but the greening and flowering survivors always eventually burst through triumphantly.  Though much of April is a time to preview what's been recharging safely underground, it's frequently a raw, gray, rainy month with brief respites of blue sky before the next front gallops through.  That little bit of sun can make all the difference in the mood and tempo of the day, but don't expect it to feel like July, yet, because it's not going to happen here in April.  

Early Spring visitors to the B&B

The saying, "change is inevitable" is generally accepted as a universal truth because it continues to prove itself.  April brought another startling change to our Fort Hill neighborhood that will cause a ripple of tongue-wagging from locals and tourists alike.  Those who've made the trip to the National Seashore's Fort Hill Lookout will be familiar with the enormous whalebone gate that welcomes you to the historic Captain Penniman house.  On my last walk by, I noticed that it was wrapped in ominous yellow plastic tape, and now have learned that the whole thing has been removed by the National Seashore for public safety, i.e. the bones had deteriorated and it was in danger of falling.  "Options for a future gate are being explored."   As these things usually do with me, it prompted new interest in the history of what had been taken for granted and is now gone.  What I learned was that the whalebone I've walked past for eight years was not even the original one, which was the jawbone of a sperm whale, installed soon after Captain Penniman had built his home in 1868.  That one was sent to the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition in 1876, but was never returned, although why is unclear.  The second gate was from a humpback whale, but was removed in the 1960's by the Park Service, also due to deterioration and safety issues.  It eventually found a home at the aquarium in Provincetown, and currently can be viewed in the Pilgrim Monument Museum in Provincetown.  The most recent gate, installed in 1969, was from the jawbones of a finback whale and received periodic preservation treatment from the Seashore staff.  Since bones are porous, exposure to ultraviolet rays, dirt, and weather leads to cracks and pest infestation, even birds taking what they can, so this explains why change is inevitable in this case.  I also learned from our Seashore Superintendent, Brian Carlstrom, that these whalebone gates are not unique to Cape Cod, [darn!] and they were found anywhere in the world where whaling was an important way of life.  So, as long as I'm quoting idioms, "live and learn." is just as apt."   

  NPS/BRENT ELLIS

Oh, and I know it's Spring because April is also my birthday month.  I share the day with the beginning of the Revolutionary War, the Branch Dividian debacle in Waco, and the Oklahoma City federal building bombing.  As Mark Twain put it, "It's spring fever.  That is what the name of it is.  And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!"  In thinking way back to how exciting a birthday used to be, here's my sage observation on this rite of passage.  In one's first couple of decades, the actual event never quite matches the expectations of how awesome the day is going to be in your head.  Now that my decades are adding up, I find the opposite to be true.  I have very low expectations about the marking of another year of survival, yet something unexpectedly pleasant usually surprises me, and turns out better than any gift, or party I ever had in my youth.  I sprained my knee this year a couple days before my birthday, so it was spent braced, and on crutches.  It's certainly not the first time I've had to pole vault myself around on them in the last few years, so I decided to try to make the best of it.  Since my old ice pack had gone missing, I ordered a new double one with Amazon's 2-day delivery to arrive on my special day.  Who really needs more jewelry?  It just gets in the way in the garden.  

On my birthday morning, on the way to Ron's previously scheduled doctor appointment, we worked on a good new story for the inevitable questions that I knew would be coming.   "What did you do?!"  The winning narrative decided on for this injury was a sprain resulting from a sumo wrestling class at the Eastham Senior Center.  I tried it out on the office staff at the doctor's with good results.  Since I'd just been in about my knee the day before, our doctor made it a point to first ask me how it was doing before she addressed why Ron was there.  I assured her that I was using the crutches to keep the weight off the sprain.  She said, "Good", but immediately looked over to Ron for confirmation because she knows we'll tattle on each other in a hot New York minute if that wasn't the case. 

Because we had B&B guests scheduled to arrive the next day, we then drove to Stop & Shop, where I decided to throw dignity to the wind and do my shopping in one of the battery-powered go-carts.  I remembered from previous attempts to shop on crutches that the store seems to triple in size when you're short a limb.  Whenever someone would give me an empathetic look, I'd just cheerfully announce, "It's my birthday, and look what I get to do!"  I ran into an old friend in the dairy aisle [no, not literally], and while chatting found out she now works at the Eastham Senior Center.  I said, "Really, well you should know that someone is spreading a rumor about getting injured at a sumo wrestling class she's taking there."  By the time we had navigated all the aisles, I had a lot of new friends rooting me on, some of whom took the drag race challenge with me and were in better moods for it.  A steak that had been marked half-price conveniently decided what to have for a birthday dinner, and a box of confections from a local bakery that was snuck into the living room by our wonderful upstairs neighbor topped it off.  I ask you, who could have actually planned a birthday more fun than that?