spring forward

Moved that clock forward an hour yet? It’s time.

Each year in March I reluctantly make the rounds to every room, changing the clocks. I never feel ready for it, lingering instead in the many happy memories of soft snowfalls, quieted landscapes and the slower days of winter. Our world is waking up.

Spring’s a time to get busy. Fix all the leaks the melting ice dams discovered. Weatherproof the deck – again. Locate the shovel and wheelbarrow in the melting snowpack next to the tool shed, oil them up and ready them for the year’s garden work. Clean the floors. Clean the floors. Clean the floors. Mud season has come.

Here’s a rare springtime song that speaks not to the usual expressions of joyous rapture and rebirth of the season, but rather to its melancholy as the world changes once again and the human spirit must adjust. No one – NO one – sings it like Ms. Betty Carter.

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