“Spring has sprung / The grass has rizz / I wonder where the birdies is?”
I don’t remember where or when I learned that bit of doggerel, but it seems to fit with the advent of spring in Indiana, the first day of which was March 20th, 2025. But spring does not seem able to make up it mind: Hot or cold? I walk a lot and have two devices that track my steps. My iPhone is the original tracker (not to be confused with the TV show of the same name) and I also have a watch that does, as well. When it is cold outside, I take fewer steps, and I imagine that my devices are trying to figure out how to wake me. But the next day, when it warms up, I’m back on my steps. But Lady Spring is an inconstant lover, and she does run hot and cold.
The dog owners of my neighborhood are a stalwart bunch, though. Cold or no, “The Dogs of Irvington,” (Weekly View, 10/22/2022) are getting their exercise. I look out my front door and shiver when I see the owners gutting out a 20º day, trailing behind a happy hound that is looking for a good place to drop a dook. On a recent, relatively warm day, I saw “Cookie” or “Coo-Coo” with her leash-holder, Celeste, walking with a new friend. “Coo-Coo” is a tall, wiry Doodle (I don’t know the cross with the poodle), and her walking buddy is a great fluffy cross between a Bernese Mountain Dog and a Newfoundland. “Hickory” was happy to share the love with “Coo-Coo.” (I forgot to get the name of “Hickory’s” leash-holder.) But the two dogs reminded me that spring has brought, along with greener grass, a need for me to put out the dog-watering bowls that I put on the side lawn.
My youngest granddaughter helped me to fill my birdfeeder, and the house sparrows, house finches and wrens flocked to the seed. I had put my nose into the air about the house sparrows, and my kind friend from the Irvington Chorus quietly rebuked me. Joyce has given me lifts home from practice, and I have had to move bags of bird seed from the passenger’s seat to make room for my body. When I gave my snobbish reason for not seeding the common birds, she reminded me that every bird deserves our care. Lesson absorbed, Joyce; bird feeder filled.
My spring grass has not “rizz,” but it has gotten greener, and I am thinking of new plantings. I accompanied my friend Mary Wilson (not the Mary Wilson of “The Supremes,” but the artist known as “Ghee”) to the Central Library to look at some books. I looked, but Mary checked out about 440 pounds of books. I did find a stand offering free seeds, and I brought home one small packet of parsley. I will consult with my next-door neighbor, Karen Davis, on the best time to put the tiny seeds in the ground for my Spring planting, for though my nickname is “Joni” (pronounced Johnny) I am no Johnny Appleseed. Nor parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. Thank you, spring!
As I wrote in “Turn, Turn, Turn,” (Eastside Voice, January 2012,) to every thing, there is a season. And in Spring, it is a time to water my dogs, seed my birds; to plant my seeds and check my mower in anticipation of the rising of the greener grass. And to walk more frequently.
cjon3acd@att.net