Spring - a season for all the senses

Lilacs are blooming outside the window of my home office space, as Tug Schrader's grandson hauls another load of manure across the field next to it - Spring is most definitely in the air.

Fortunately, the pungent aroma of natural fertilizer doesn't bother me too much, although I can understand how its fragrance might be offensive to 'city slickers' whose noses aren't accustomed to such smells. It can be a bit strong at times.

As a born and bred Riley girl, the sights and smells of the farming community are common place, often signaling the change in seasons and helping keep us in tune with Mother Nature.

Autumn remains as my personal favorite time of year, but Spring is a close second, offering wonders for each of the senses.

The smell of Spring is surely found in the sweet scent of lilacs - a lovely, old-fashioned flowering bush. The very air has a special freshness, most noticeable after the first thunderstorm of the season has helped make the grass 'greener.' And, of course, there is that manure - wouldn't want to forget that smell.

Visual senses are aroused when the budding trees reach their pretty green leaves up to meet the blue of the Spring sky. It may not be scientifically true, but I believe the sky is bluer, the grass is greener, and the sunshine is a brighter yellow in Spring than at any other time of year.

We certainly can't forget the sense of touch. For me, that means picking flowers. Not just any flower, though, a very special kind - dandelions.

A weed to many people, including my father who spends hours on the riding mower chopping off their yellow heads, a yard sprinkled with dandelions is really an artistic opportunity. You can make chains out of the stems, or even twist and bend them into wonderful shapes and designs if you’re really creative.

The dandelion's true claim to fame, however, is in the bright yellow markings that can be produced by rubbing the heads on surfaces - like someone's face, for example.

Of course, I had to demonstrate this artistic trick to Granddaughter Gwendolyn - she thought it was great fun. I'm not sure her parents were too appreciative, though.

Trying to define a 'taste' for Spring is a little more difficult. As much as I like dandelions and lilacs, I'm not inclined to eat them. Maybe dandelion greens in a salad - or wine - but neither really tastes like Spring to me.

The simple joy of eating food outdoors creates the link between taste and Spring.

A sure sign of Spring years ago back at St. Peter Lutheran School was when we were allowed to take our lunchboxes outside at recess. Sitting in the green grass - picking those dandelions - and eating our sandwiches and cookies certainly meant Spring had arrived.

As I recall, it took a lot of teasing on our part to gain the privilege of eating lunch outside. Sometimes, Mrs. Seibert or Mr. Bergdolt would use it as a bribe of sorts to get an assignment completed - although as I see it now, they probably would have let us eat outside regardless. They wanted us out of the classroom as much as we wanted to be out.

The sounds of Spring are easy to hear - birds singing, wind whistling, frogs croaking, - the list goes on and on. Maybe it's my imagination, but it seems there are more birds chirping in the mornings this Spring than I can remember in past years - very pleasant.

A audio clip of Spring that is peculiar to my memory - and one that is still heard every day - is the sound of tractors working in the fields. Today, huge machines haul even bigger diggers and planters in their wake, tilling the ground and sowing seeds.

My memory is of a much smaller version - a little gray Ferguson pulling a drill with a slightly dirty child standing on the narrow running board at the rear. The tractor chugs across the field, back and forth in straight lines, while the child does her best to sing above the sound of the engine and the clanking of the planter.

At least that's what they tell me. I don't remember the singing part.

Sound, sight, touch, smell, taste - take a moment this weekend and come alive in Spring.

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It's been so long since I've written a column, I've missed an important event. My mother's birthday was April 17. A belated Happy Birthday to Marcella Kloeckner - we won't print her age.

As it happens, my dad's birthday is tomorrow, May 7. Clemens will be 87 - it's okay to say how old he is. He doesn’t need a birthday to make him ornery - just kidding.

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While I'm at it, I may as well wish Happy Birthday to my brother-in-law, Duane Stearns, too. He shares the date with my dad, although Duane is slightly younger - 25 years to be exact.

Judging by some of the stories I've heard about Dewey's adventures during his high school years and after, it's a wonder he made it through the first 25 years.

It must have been the positive influence of friends like Larry Grennell, Elmer Upton, Denny LaBar, Larry Crosby, and others who pulled him through - just kidding again.

Happy birthday, brother.

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This is turning into a novel, I realize, but who knows when space (or time) will permit a future column, so I do need to remark on one other item - Tomorrow's Leaders.

If you've been reading the paper in recent months, you probably noticed the series of articles on this wonderful program - and even more grand group of people who made up the TL Class of 2001. It was a true pleasure for me to have worked with these 20 individuals from January through March - I learned as much as all of you did.

A special thanks to one graduate who provided a real boost to me at a time when some personal issues seemed overwhelming. Your words of encouragement were much appreciated, and your 'Gift of Story' is something I will always treasure.