Open Writing

The poignant aria from George Gershwin’s opera Porgy and Bess, says it all about the American summer, in many states anyway. “Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high,” what could be better? In a country of meteorological extremes, the differences between winter and summer are dramatic, unlike the British Isles and some of Europe where summer often brings disappointment, with weather not too different to the winter.

When first I came here from England, I was astounded that people were able to make plans for a picnic or barbecue weeks in advance, confident that the weather would cooperate. With the possible exception of Florida, Southern California and parts of Texas, April and May are the months when you can almost hear the suburbanites exhale. People emerge from their houses like Woodchucks from hibernation.

Blinking at the light, they venture out into gardens that were so recently buried in snow, to check what plants may have survived the winter. Animated neighbors, who have scarcely exchanged a word for the past few months can be heard over the hedge, bringing each other up to date on family news. Pretty soon, plant nurseries that were devoid of any kind of flora will burst at the seams with Impatiens, Petunias, Geraniums, Begonias and Roses.

Other sections will overflow with tomato, pepper, cucumber and bean plants, and the shelves inside the store will groan under the weight of fertilizers, pesticides, sacks of lime and grass seed. There are treatments for every kind of ailment your lawn and soil could possibly be ailing from: ticks, chiggers, moles, crab grass, acidity, alkalinity, and moss, to name but a few.

In a nearby plot is a literal forest of saplings and shrubs. Flowering Cherry trees jostle with Japanese Maples, Magnolias, Lilacs and Dogwood. In their shade, sit Azaleas, Rhododendrons and Burberry bushes, waiting expectantly to be taken to a loving home where they’ll be treated like the princes and princesses that they are.

Just around the corner, the masonry and garden ornament section is abuzz with reluctant spouses, who have been coerced into projects their partners were wowed by on the TV gardening shows that brightened the dark winter months. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful dear to have a: pond, fountain, rockery, winding stone path, patio, logia etc.?” Strike now, because a willing spouse is a fleeting thing, and pretty soon the devil will be tempting him/her away with sinful distractions like golf, fishing, baseball, bake shows and barbecues.

The back-to-nature urge isn’t the only sign of spring. In small communities, the churches and temples also tap into the seasonal adrenalin rush. If you’re lucky enough to live in a multi-denominational town, you can be assured of a rummage sale each Spring weekend, because the Baptists, Lutherans, Episcopalians, Unitarians and Methodists try not to compete on the same day. The protocol was laid down years ago and would take a holy war to change.

In any state where the summer day temperature stays consistently over seventy degrees, anyone who can afford a backyard pool has one. They range from modest, plastic DIY versions that can be driven home in the trunk of your car, to contoured, in-ground beauties, hand crafted from rammed concrete and rimmed with mosaic tiles, or “naturalized” arrangements of rock, with a tinkling waterfall.

Whether humble or grand, the pool owner’s spring task is the same; to restore their beauty after the ravages of winter. The above ground pools suffer the most. Their plastic liners become stained by fallen leaves, and high winds and heavy snow cause tears. If the frosts have been deep and hard, the concrete pools will suffer cracks. But, no matter; just as the plant nurseries have geared up for the gardening frenzy, so the pool supply stores are bulging with treatments and fixes. Kits of plastic sheet and glue will remedy all but the most devastating tears, and cans of magic sealant will stem the leaking crack, even under water!

Looking up and down the backyards in the often pristine, clear weather of spring, the activity is awesome. If you had a speeded-up Google view from space, it would be like watching ants build and supply a colony.

Soon, the yearning for the great backyard will be satiated, and the weekend somnolence of June and July will settle on the neighborhood. An afternoon quiet, broken only by the occasional laughter of children in the pools, or the metallic scrape as a sizzling burger is flipped on the barbecue, will be the only sounds. The smart folk got their lawn mowing done in the early cool, so not even the angry growl of lawnmowers is heard.

Last winter is far away – perhaps it never happened, and next winter will come when it comes.

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