Spring's broken promise

I'm looking forward to summer. Why? Because in our North Country, spring is pretty much a slow motion train wreck. Today is again cloudy, the daytime high was about 51℉ ["normal" : 68℉]. The last frost date in our area is either May 31 or June 10. [By the way, does the linked map also do an interesting job of highlighting urban heat islands?] 

is a cold spring delaying arrival?

Photo by J. Harrington

This year's spring also has the all too usual train wreck of a divided legislature failing to come to agreement on the state budget plus, because of the way the legislature, using, no doubt, the best scientific evidence, set the dates for fishing openers and Take Mom Fishing weekend. It would seem that those who espouse the "wisdom of the mob" haven't spent much time evaluating the Minnesota legislature. It's not our biggest problem by any means, but  having the fishing opener for the weekend after take a mom fishing seems disrespectful to moms.

It may be that my usual curmudgeonly perspective has been further aggravated by this year's spring cold I'm still nursing. Trading my cold, plus the cold weather, for sunshine and warmth will no doubt improve the outlook around here. Then, if the legislature would actually do their job on time, we wouldn't need to spend any time this summer concerned about what else they may screw up.

The Necessity

By Alice B. Fogel

It isn't true about the lambs.

They are not meek.

They are curious and wild,

full of the passion of spring.

They are lovable,

and they are not silent when hungry.

Tonight the last of the triplet lambs

is piercing the quiet with its need.

Its siblings are stronger

and will not let it eat.

I am its keeper, the farmer, its mother,

I will go down to it in the dark,

in the cold barn,

and hold it in my arms.

But it will not lie still—it is not meek.

I will stand in the open doorway

under the weight of watching trees and moon,

and care for it as one of my own.

But it will not love me—it is not meek.

Drink, little one. Take what I can give you.

Tonight the whole world prowls

the perimeters of your life.

Your anger keeps you alive—

it's your only chance.

So I know what I must do

after I have fed you.

 

I will shape my mouth to the shape

of the sharpest words,

even those bred in silence.

I will impale with words every ear

pressed upon open air.

I will not be meek.

You remind me of the necessity

of having more hope than fear,

and of sounding out terrible names.

I am to cry out loud

like a hungry lamb, cry loud

enough to waken wolves in the night.

No one can be allowed to sleep.

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