2012
Spring is rolling in upon the Panhandle. A few weeks ago we took a trip to visit my son at college. The ribbon of highway lifted and fell with the rolling hills. It was early morning and along the way I watched as the world was awakened to the morning sunlight. Fog held in the low spots; that wonderful kind of fog which just lifts above the ground and makes me feel like I’m driving just under the clouds.
Along the road the cattle moved and grazed, vapor rising into the air as they exhaled into the early morning chill. Water dripped and drooled from their mouths as they paused in their drinking from the water in standing ponds, creeks, and water tanks to offer a curious glance as we passed. A bull lifted his snout in the air to echo out his deep call into the quiet of the morning and, though I couldn’t hear him from inside the car, the image of his actions offered the sound within the confines of my mind.
In the fields of brown, life had started to eek its way to the surface, dotting the earth with a shade of bright, fresh green. The spindly bare limbs of trees were growing bumps as the buds of new leaves grew toward their unfolding. Green squares of winter wheat fields contrasted against the gray squares of old stubble, the dark squares of plowed soil, and the brown squares of dormant grass like the spaces on a checkerboard. Across the prairie, heavy dew glistened and sparkled like a sprinkling of diamonds reflecting the light of the sunrise. I couldn’t help but be taken in by the details of this chilly Oklahoma morning.
A few days ago, I sat waiting to pick up the kids from school. With the windows down and the light breeze blowing in, I absorbed the beautiful warmth of the sunlight and a flawless baby blue sky. The paper thin seeds of the elms floated down upon Main Street like confetti. It was the kind of day which made me wish youthful thoughts for a convertible and the blast of a good stereo, the wind whispering through the barren land where my hair once grew. Spring fever was growing and I longed for a fishing rod and some soft green grass.
Last week I went to the track meet. Aside from the races and field events, kids of varied ethnicities and cultural backgrounds ran, laughed, and played in the center of the field. Their easy interactions were warming in the current climate of political and cultural confusion. The odor of sunscreen filled the air and the absence of its use was reflected in the sunburned noses, cheeks, legs, and arms. Upon sleeping bags and blankets, young athletes read books, snacked, teased, and wrestled with each other while they waited between events. The thin wires of headphones draped down from their ears as they took in the wonder of spring and blended it with their own choices of music; faces filled with mixed sentiments of contentment, ease, confidence, apprehension, hope, and happiness.
Today, the day after Easter, the morning started with overcast skies which slowly rolled away to reveal pale blue once again. The yards are green with grass and weeds. Henbit, a weed of course, has taken over the town and small purple flowers spread like carpet unrolled upon the yards and open lots. Annoying as it may be, it is pretty in its own way.
The trees are nearly fully leaved now. The gray-brown branches which were dormant all winter are filled with green. Track meets, softball, and golf games carry the echoes of voices and laughter as people move from their inner sanctuaries to absorb the wondrous feeling of once again being outside. Sounds of mowers and weed trimmers hum or whine in the background. Sweet scents of flowers blooming and grass being cut have begun to fill the world and create their own feelings of busyness. The smells of charcoal and barbecue have replaced the winter odor of pinion burning in fireplaces.
Red dirt, chalk, and grass will once again stain pants and jerseys. The smell of worn leather, popcorn, and hot dogs will lift in stadiums across the country. The pop of ball into glove, the crack of ball against bat, and the growl of the umpire’s voice will pierce the air. Cheers and boos will roar from the crowds. The taunting wink from batter to pitcher, the hand signals of the catcher, the touch of hand to cap, the windup, the release, and amazing dives in the outfield will all become familiar sights. The loudspeakers will echo and the organ will play. “God Bless America” will be sung in rough harmony during the stretch. Replays of “Field of Dreams” will make way for live games. The world has awakened from its winter!
It’s Spring folks! You know what that means? Baseball is back!
