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Stories by Norman Creighton
Farewell to Winter
So we made it! The snow drifts are beginning to disappear and snowdrops are once again in bloom. The days are getting longer, the underwear shorter. No more icy roads; no more antifreeze. Put away the vitamin pills and the cod liver oil. Kick off your overshoes and pack the heavy winter overcoat away in the cedar chest. It's time to straighten up and look around you, and see the world once again. There's blue up there in the sky, the same a last spring. The brooks are breaking free and flooding their banks. Out on the back lawn, where the snow has melted away, around the big rock maple, there's a hint of colour on the turf. And a whole new green year lies ahead ol us; a whole new season, full of beckoning roads, and picnic baskets, swim suits and sunburn, and the tart goodness of an August apple pie. It's like having a fortune handed to you. Where do you begin? All that sunshine is waiting, vacation projects, canoe trips, the camper you plan to build, scuba diving, trying out the new golf clubs you got at Christmas, or the spinner salmon rod... so many adventures in the months ahead. I have big things planned for the garden this year. I'm experimenting with some new seeds. I sent all the way to England for them - special varieties of tomatoes, and Brussels sprouts, and peas. They are those little French peas - the sugar peas - so tender you can cook them pods and all. Then there are some new kinds of head lettuce. I can hardly wait for the first salad out of our own garden - with our own lettuce, a sprinkling of parsley, some white radish, and a few scallions, along with a spoonful of homemade mayonnaise dressing. But of course spring doesn't really begin until you've picked your first dandelion greens and had them served up along with some fried gaspereau. But that doesn't come for almost a month, towards the end of April. In the meantime we can get busy setting up our wine making equipment, to ready ourselves for blackberry time, or blueberry time. I his year we might even try some raspberries. If it's anything like the preserved raspberries we put up in bottles last summer it would be a vintage fit for gourmets. A dish of those preserved raspberries was like reliving the golden splendor of an August afternoon. With each spoonful I could see myself out there in the raspberry patch, down by the beehives, the air heady with pollen and the smell of fresh honey, ripening in the comb. There are so many wonderful things to come in the green growing months ahead, the pear tree you planted two years ago, or the Chinese chestnut, or the Burbank plum.... All winter you've been wondering if perhaps - this spring - they'd be old enough to bloom and hear fruit. Every spring I try to set out three new trees, so each year I have something to look forward to and to dream about while the frost is still on the windowpane. You know, I've always enjoyed sitting by the fireside of a winter evening, with the wind rattling at the storm door. On those long winter evenings drowsing beside the hearth with a book on your knee, your fancy is weeks away, with the March winds. How pleasant it is to warm your mind with the thoughts of the bed of tulips you planted last fall, the new clump of King Alfred daffodils, the sweet scented jonquils - those tossing shafts of colour and the smell of springtime in the air. Not that I spend all my time sitting beside the kitchen stove. I love getting outdoors during the winter months, when the air tastes like breathing in wine and you can feel it tingling in your veins. Everything so spotlessly white; the spruce branches outlined with a light powdering of snow... And what a winter we've had this year, with skating up at the Community Centre, and curling, and parties at New Year. There have been no house flies to bother us, no rose bushes to spray, and no arguments about Daylight Saving Time. There was hot coffee for breakfast... Oh winter was such a peaceful time, with the enchantment of its street lights, the soft pool of light under each lamp post, the stars over head, and the crunch of snow under your feet...so clean...so quiet. Yes, it's been a good winter. And now it's finished. Good bye, winter. It was great having you. We never appreciate you until you're all over. Oh well, cheer up friends. Remember: if summer comes, can fall be far behind?
Norman Creighton
1909-1995
Copyright 2002-2006 Johnston Honey
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