April Slides in with National Poetry Month and Earth Day

April has arrived.

Photo JosepMonter, Pixabay

For many people April brings the excitement of an awakening in our land as we watch the dull brown of sleeping vegetation in the northern regions morph into the many vibrant hues of green. What better way to enjoy the month than to smell the earthy scent of mud, feel the warm sun on your back, and rekindle your hope that spring has arrived with its many showers and colorful flowers?                                  

April is also National Poetry Month and, on April 22^nd, we celebrate Earth Day in the United States along with Canada and other countries around the world. This year, the theme for Earth Day is Invest In Our Planet and continues to focus on the effects of climate change.

One of my favorite poems is It Must Be Spring, by May Fenn. It not only ushers in joys of the season, but also highlights the wonders of our earth, giving a nod to the importance of Earth Day.

Hush, can you hear it?
The rustling in the grass,
Bringing you the welcome news that
Winter’s day is past.
Soft, can you feel it?
The warm caressing breeze,
Telling you the sticky buds
Are bursting on the trees.
Look, can you see them?
The primrose in the lane.
Now you must believe it —
Spring is here again.

Photo by Beeki, Pixabay

So as we watch the red buds burst and bloom and see the first yellow dandelions emerge in the grass…or listen to the returning birds in the bushes and the honking geese in the skies overhead… let’s take time to enjoy the jaunty month bringing renewal to our earth and optimism to our lives. 

 

 

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HELLO, APRIL!

 I’m the first to admit that I enjoy April.

April is when all the flowers from bulbs beneath the sleepy earth emerge. Daffodils, crocus, wind flowers, and small grape hyacinths bring color, scent, and life back to the flowerbeds.

I think back to my childhood and how my mother loved plants and bushes of all types. We were a  farm family, and  it was not unusual to visit a neighbor’s house and go home with a piece of a bush, or some shoots wrapped in a wet rag, or a bundle of roots tied up in a burlap feed bag. Mother always found a place to plant her treasures and nurse them to maturity. And the favor was returned when friends, relatives, and neighbors came to call and left with a clump of rhubarb or day lilies.

At the front corner of my house, I still have trumpet vines from cuttings my mother gave me decades ago. Every fall we chop them back to stubby trunks, and in the spring they explode in a flourish of leaves and blossoms that entice the hummingbirds.

In the back yard, I have a bed of rag roses from around an old stone foundation of a house built in the early 1800s and situated along a well-used route westward. Everyone always referred to the cleared, often muddy pathway as “The Old Road.”

And, my favorite from our farm is at the side of my house—a large clump of Jack in the Pulpits my mother coddled in one of her flowerbeds.

April brings back lots of good memories. It’s a time of warm days, a time to get ready for spring planting and, for those of us who like to play in the dirt, it’s a month of sheer joy.

I’ll end with a colloquialism that the farmers often used in northeastern Pennsylvania: “So long, March. Hello, April!”

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