Tag Archives: Spring

Seasons Are Seasonal Not to Say That Seasons Are Seasonable If Seasons Were Seasonable Then I Think Salt Would Be The Only Seasoning a Season Would Need to Be Seasoned With

Gazing out of my window, I felt an inkling to pause writing and share a few thoughts buzzing around in my cranium.

Once again, it’s that time of year. Yeah, you know the one I’m talking about. If you ask anyone, “What’s your favorite time of the year?” The majority will answer, “Fall.” Did you notice how I worked a bit of dialog into the first line of my blog?

It’s kinda my favorite time of year also. Now what I mean by “kinda” is that it’s not consistently on the top of my list of favorite seasons. “What is?” you ask.

Well now, let’s take a look at each season, one at a time.

Spring: The weather begins to warm, the tree buds will soon turn to leaves, flowers bloom, and the entire scene is full of beauty and new life. It is also the time of year my body produces an overwhelming amount of snot, itchy eyes, and an overall feeling that the green dust (oak pollen) will never leave and soon take over.

Summer: Hot and humid. . . . Nuff said.

Fall: Rivals Spring in beauty, with the leaves changing to glorious colors and all the insects (especially the biting ones) breathing their last. All these are great things indeed; however, my nemesis (ragweed) appears enticing my body to produce an overwhelming amount of snot for the second time during the year.

Winter: No heat, no humidity, no biting insects, no snot producing particles in the air. . . . “Get where I’m going with this?”. . . . Looky there, dialog again. No brag; just sayin’.

I guess what it boils down to is–I’m glad I live in an area that I’m able to experience all four seasons. The differences are what make each one unique. In truth, they’re just another gift from God’s creation that we are able to enjoy.

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Cold and Dead, Boobala! Cold and Dead!

winterI’m not sure about your situation, but I’m fortunate enough to live in a climate where I experience all four seasons during the course of the year. I’m not a big hot weather fan and the spring time pollen can be rather uncomfortable, but I still appreciate a climatic change every three months.

In fact, I’ve used weather as a basis for short stories with good results, especially when you incorporate little tidbits such as tornadoes, hurricanes, and the like.

Getting off the subject of writing for a moment, the change in seasons tends to knock me for a loop. If you were to take that loop, add a two and a half gainer, a quadruple back flip with a reverse triple somersault ending in a six point dismount, you’d pretty much describe my reaction to the change of seasons.

Ragweed in the fall is probably my nemesis. My snot locker sends a constant barrage of phlegm as a cascading waterfall down the back of my throat clogging everything in its path. “Drainage,” I believe they call it. I prefer, “Niagara Falls.”

Now, spring is a totally different animal. You get all the snot, but with a dashing array of color.

My love/hate relationship is with summer. Hot, humid, mosquitoes, ticks, assorted other biting insects, thunderstorms (which I enjoy until the power goes bye bye)…these adverse conditions help me to enjoy fall and winter, which are my two favorite seasons.

Cool weather is definitely my forte. However sad this may seem, I’m at my best when everything outside is cold and dead.

Don’t know whether or not this requires any extra thought, but I think it best that I leave it alone.

Happy winter, everybody!!!!!!!

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If Pollen Could Talk, What Would it Say? Aw, C’mon I’m Snot Gonna Hurt Ya

Did I mention during my last post that I was in the middle of rewrites and edits?sneeze Now this is a rhetorical question because I did more than just mention that fact. I drove it into the ground, dug it up and like a bottle of shampoo instructs one to rinse and repeat, I did the same. Seems to me I may have even rented a backhoe.

Anywho, enough of that… I ran across a section where my protagonist and his entourage were a bit out of sorts due to the deadly desert heat they were forging through. It just so happened that on the very same day, we were experiencing temperatures that had climbed into the 70s and, complements of a cold front, dropped 30° in just a few hours. This sudden drop on the Fahrenheit scale signaled the rusty cogs in my brain to commence turning again–we’re now in the middle of the seasonal change from winter into spring.

You remember the old saying, “April showers bring May flowers,” along with severe thunderstorms, tornadoes, pollen, watery eyes, sneezing, boat loads of snot and gallons of phlegm. The difference in the two, by my reckoning, is snot emanates from the honker and phlegm from the pie hole. (I hope I didn’t get too technical in describing the two medical facts of life. If so, I apologize, but…there you have it.)

Pollen, watery eyes, sneezing and the bodily fluids that flow during this seasonal change remain the one constant, prevalent in all four seasons that we experience.

Having already described winter to spring (the vernal equinox), next in line is spring to summer. (The estival solstice)

Once again we’re plagued with severe thunderstorms and tornadoes, but this time pollen morphs from the trees to the ground in the form of grass. Alas, the snot still flows; albeit, much thinner than its springtime counterpart. There is also one small tidbit of information that bears mentioning. Those along the Gulf and East coast of the United States now have the additional threat of hurricanes.

Moving along we turn our attention to what most people refer to as their favorite time of year, the autumnal equinox, or fall. By now, thunderstorms have calmed somewhat, but hurricane season is at its peak and snot levels are off the charts, all because of my friend and yours, Mr. and Mrs. Ragweed. This time of year slow down and pay attention to your surroundings. Are not the colors dazzling (God’s silent fireworks) and the crisp air such a relief from the heat and humidity of summer? Take a deep breath, you’ll see……Achoo!!…… Excuse me please.

And now, we have come full circle. The circle of life, around the bend, back to the beginning, pass “GO” collect $200. We have reached the hibernal solstice (winter). It is during these few months that the river of snot is        more tolerable than any other time of year. The beauty of the snow, the wonder of the Christmas season, and the new year, when we hopefully try to better ourselves.

Once again it is time to bid you, “ado.” Thank you for listening to me whine about my yearly sinus problems. Of course, we know there are wondrous things to enjoy each and every day of the year and take time to say a prayer for those in harm’s way during tumultuous times embedded in each season.

Until next week!

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How do You Know it’s Seasoned Properly if You Don’t Taste it

Fallen Leaves

Fallen Leaves (Photo credit: elycefeliz)

I’m a little more than halfway through the novel I am presently working on. Always on the lookout for blog fodder, during a recent writing session I noticed a number of amber-colored leaves spread across the lawn, signifying the beginning of fall. This in turn caused me to jump deeper inside myself and this is what I crawled out with.

 If you ask someone, “What is your favorite season?” most people will answer, Fall.  Now this is something that I had to ponder.

 It didn’t take long to determine that it is due to the crisp air and the beautiful colors that we are blessed with during that time of year.

 This made me think of the other options we have available to satisfy that meteorological jonesing, namely winter, spring and summer.  I may assume your favorite season is fall, but cannot state that with any accuracy; therefore, you’ll have the unique opportunity to consider my view.  Fortunately, I live in a part of the country that experiences the four climate changes each year.

 First, the season of renewal: spring.

 Some folks see it as a time of reawakening and rebirth after the long cold winter.  Days become warmer; flowers bloom; trees bud and the landscape begins to ooze chlorophyll.

 Now, my take on this new season of beauty and warmth goes more like this.  The humidity begins to increase along with those wonderfully warm temperatures, which in turn causes me to leak. The beautiful budding of trees and flowers coat my vehicles in a dusty yellow powder, we know to be pollen.  Now this irritating dust that makes flora grow also makes my nose blow.  So in conclusion, spring for me is a foreboding glimpse of things to come; bugs to swat; sweat to wipe; eyes to rub and thirty gallons of mucus and phlegm to travel through my facial orifices. And, for that special added bonus, just for living in the troposphere, we enjoy thunderstorms, power outages and tornadoes.

 Next comes summer:

 Who doesn’t love the long lazy days of summer? The kids are out of school. The swimming pools are open and tis the season for the family vacation.

 I don’t know what I like better, mosquitoes siphoning their daily pint of blood or those wonderfully docile wasps that build their abodes over my door. These little psycho’s have no qualms as to when you enter or exit as long as they can jab their organic hypodermic needles deep into your flesh.  For some folks it is the time of year they can rejoice, for the spiders and snakes have returned to bid them a fond ado. To abscond with a phrase from a famous theatrical and cinematic production, and I quote, “These are a few of my favorite things.”

  • Heat waves, flooding rains, biting bugs and hurricanes.
  • Tornadoes cutting swaths through towns, where bloodsucking ticks abound.
  • Spiders, bees, scaly snakes and even occasional earthquakes.
  • Bats darting through the air. “Duck! Don’t let it in your hair.”
  • Each night they eat their weight in bugs; after a rain watch out for slugs.
  • Crickets chirping in the house; visits by a furry mouse.
  • Pulling ticks off canine pets; shots require trips to the vet.
  • Household chores like cutting grass; increases in the price of gas.
  • Sunshine radiating down, my back now red, no sunscreen found.
  • And now, I’ll stop these silly rhymes for I have taken too much time.
  • I realize my greatest fear, cause I have bored myself to tears.

And now everyone’s favorite: fall.

 I have already mentioned the endearing attributes of these golden three months. I would be remiss if I did not state the negative. So here it is: Ragweed! Nuff said.

 Finally, what you’ve all been waiting for… “Drumroll please.” The grand finale: Old Man Winter; Jack Frost and things that go crunch in the night.

  My favorite time of the year– ice on every horizontal surface; dormant vegetation crunching under foot; the trees void of leaves resemble multi-armed creatures eager to dislodge earth imprisoned roots. Single-digit temperatures; white rain accumulating on the lawn and road alike, making driving treacherous. And if one is adventuresome enough for a short jaunt to the beach they can encounter some of the best striped bass fishing available. During the winter I can look out my window and see nothing but the cold, gray landscape of apparent death (even though all is just dormant) I can walk outside unmolested by bloodsucking insects and at night all is quiet, unlike the crickets, frogs, katydids and hoards of other insects who lend their voice to the nighttime summer chorus.

 Although winter is one of my favorite times of year, the paragraph you just read was mainly tongue-in-cheek. There are things I love and dislike about each of the seasons. In fact, the differences are one of the reasons experiencing all four seasons is so wonderful. Holidays to spend with family and friends; summer vacations and being beat unmercifully by ocean waves; surf fishing fall, winter and spring just to name a few.

 All in all just another way to enjoy God’s endless bounty He constantly blesses us with.

 Just in case you hadn’t noticed, I like to fish!

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From Dirt You Came, and to Dirt You Shall Return.

English: Agri-Fab tiller

English: Agri-Fab tiller (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve always wanted to write a short humorous piece on the vernal equinox, ending it on a serious note that highlights my superior skill as a writer. Oh, if only Shakespeare were around today to glean bits of wisdom from the words that flow from my pen…

But that’s another story.

Springtime. When a young man’s heart turns to fancy, and then to dirt. Before you ask, yes, I said dirt. It all happened hundreds of years ago when we beat our swords and weapons into plowshares. And the  townsfolk rejoiced. Then we brutally beat our plowshares into tillers of soil. This took quite some time, but once again, the townsfolk rejoiced.

Once we had the tillers of soil and many implements with which to cultivate foodstuffs, we then began to drill deep holes into the earth to retrieve a substance suitable to power the tillers of soil. And once again, the townsfolk rejoiced.

We then built massive refining plants to refine the suitable substance we had retrieved from the deep holes in the earth and placed it in the tillers of soil. This time, the townsfolk did not rejoice, awaiting the outcome of the running of the tiller of soil.

A man of burliness, who resided in the town, stepped forward unto the machine, which tills the soil. He grabbed the cord and pulled twice. The machine sputtered and began to hum with a loud, steady rumble. The man of burliness grabbed the handles on the tiller of soil, pulled the levers, and began to till the soil. The townsfolk sighed a great sigh of relief and then rejoiced.

Many seeds were planted and much was harvested in order to feed the townsfolk. After many years, the tiller of soil ceased to hum. Since no one had developed a curriculum in order to become a mechanic to repair the tiller of soil, the townsfolk beat the tiller of soil once again into a plowshare. Not wanting to stop there, they beat the plowshare into swords and other weapons of violence and mayhem.

The townsfolk ate the last of the bounty harvested from the communal garden. They rejoiced one last time and due to the misappropriation of a slightly-rotten string bean, a great argument arose and all were killed with the swords and weapons of violence and mayhem. The last remaining resident of the town sadly sat down and starved to death, not knowing that the bounty of potatoes, tomatoes, and eggplant left in the communal garden were edible.

In order to tie this story to the craft of writing, we must look at the slightly-rotten string bean. As you’re cleaning up your manuscript, be on the lookout for the tiniest instances of rot. Even a smidgen of decay can ensnare your novel in its ever-spreading tendrils.

Now excuse me, I’ve got to douse those pesky tomatoes with herbicide.

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