Oh, what a beautiful morning! The sun is shining brightly and most of the deepest snow cover of the season, to date, has dissipated. Rain is in the forecast, but I am not complaining.
Thoughts of the wonderment of spring 2009 energize me and elevate my mood to new highs. Ever since I was old enough to walk about in God's Country and to realize the beauty of nature's rebirth, I have had a love affair with the season.
Truth is, I enjoy all four seasons, but spring; this old country girl fancies most of all.
Since we are still dealing with winter, for now; I must wait for my moment "when the red red robin comes bob bob bobbin' along." No, not that old, long dead, robin that Harry Woods wrote about in the lyrics of the song that he penned back in 1926, but, a happy very much alive robin, like my friend, Charles Walker saw last week. The bird was spotted perched on an air conditioning unit on the side of a house nearby a row of pine trees, eating.
A pretty little bird clued me in as to Charlie's sighting.
The North American songbird is often said to be the first winged messenger to carry us such good news- an early sign of the advent of spring. You can count on large flocks of the, hungry, migrating thrush to arrive as soon as the ground becomes soggy and opens up to them.
Soon other birds will follow robin red breast's lead. Those few brave survivalists that forewent their fall travel plans last year and hunkered down in my woods and, the woods familiar to you, to tough it out with old man winter will show beaks, mix, match up, mate, nest and produce offspring-precious gifts of God.
The sky, lawn, trees, shrubbery, and grasslands here and thereabouts will be alive with the melodious sounds of the music that I love so much.
Oh, how I wish, if only for a little while, Dad could be here to walk with me into springtime.
Even the tiny peepers that share habitat and grow in and around our pit ponds and trees will spring into action soon. They will sing their awesome song, acappella.
No one could ever isolate the one that can't keep up with the choir.
Last fall I gave the little blue house at the end of the road a fresh coat of good paint, blue as the sky on a clear October day. This spring, the trimming job will be finished and I will work on the buildings at the homestead property and much more. Dad's old brooder house will hold hatchling again. The garden spot will be prepared and planted and once more the fruit trees will blossom and flowers shall bloom again.
I would like to have a yard sale. The last sale that I was responsible for was set in place for the purpose of the liquidation of a large accumulation of the personal property of the late Martha Early.
Dr. Horace Early Jr. was the sole heir of his mother's estate.
With the help of a couple of professional appraisers and Paul Baby's support, I rolled up my sleeves and dug in. Expensive items such as oriental rugs, lithographs and other art objects, heavy antique furniture, fine glassware and silver was sold, directly, from Martha's home, located next to the former Lawson and Slack Funeral Home.
Then Mr. Brown, a very good auctioneer helped me reduce the inventory of appliances and much of the remainder of the furniture, yard tools and sporting goods, at a consignment sale.
Goods that I classified as salable yard sale items were taken to my place. It took ten days of yard sale to complete the job and present the good doctor the paper works and proceeds.
The long time family friend was pleased and grateful. I was pleased with my job performance and grateful the task was entrusted to me.
Now two decades later, I am ready to rid us of unwanted Sartor stuff. This and that and what not, something you may want and, maybe not!
For now, I'll drag it out and set it aside, rummage through it and re-decide.
Hopefully, by the time the warm breezes of spring find my space, I will be ready come mid- spring to groom my lush green carpet, set up some long tables, and set out my ordinary and not so ordinary wares and odd chair - beware!
So, my senior friends, to those of you that are bogged down by winter blues and other present day woes, feeling low, lonesome and lost in the shuffle, get up-get up you sleepyhead, get up, get out of bed and look around you. Think spring, think positive, and smile.
To live in America is a privilege and life is a gift.
Thank you, Theresa for the nice email messages. I appreciate your kind words. The book is a work in progress.
I can be reached at 446-4852 or drop me a line to 613 North Elm St., Brazil, IN., 47834 or by email at pmlsartor@ aol.com.