I remember spring as popcorn clouds painted on a blue sky. I remember spring sitting on the bank of a pond, staring at a bobber on water that showed me the far shoreline in a picture upside down. In spring blackbirds, perched on cattails, hunted dragonflies and I was silent because Daddy said, “To catch fish you got to hold your mouth right.”
It felt like spring today as I ran down Pace road in the quiet of morning, sun bright and birds singing. I guess it’s a sign I’ve had enough winter. I passed by Ol’ Man Davis’s pond and saw a red-winged blackbird land on a cattail. I was transported back to a simple time, a time when I squatted by a pond wondering how spiders could walk on water and where the world might take me some day. A time when I fished with worms found under stacks of roofing tin, basement crickets, grasshoppers, and anything else I could catch and put on a hook. Lying back on a grassy bank, staring into an endless blue sky as the sun warmed my skin, put everything into perspective. I was but a speck of dust in the universe. I wondered where Heaven might be, then my bobber would bounce, I’d set a hook, and just like that I found my Heaven.
I am ready for spring. I’m ready for the hills to dress themselves in color again, ready for jonquils, azaleas and Queen Anne’s lace. On down the road twenty-five Tom turkeys stretched their necks high in the air as I ran by, disturbed from pecking out a breakfast in Ol’ Man Davis’s pasture. They eat his calves’ feed and he says, “Kill um’ all Jimmy. Kill ever last one of um’,” and I’m obliged to – come spring.