ODE TO THE MIDWEST

Turning the Chicago river fluorescent green is a Midwest rite of spring. (Photo credit: Youtube screenshot)

Annual rebirth underway, none too soon.

In these parts, commonly and sometimes deridingly called the Midwest, a great tradition has begun. Punctuated by swarms of fowl migrating majestically from warmer climes, the yearly transition from winter to spring amounts to unbridled joy in the nation’s midsection.

Never has this metamorphosis been more welcomed than this year. The winter of 2018-2019 started early, with a substantive snowstorm in late-November. Then winter pounded away with a series of snowstorms, blizzard conditions and record cold temperatures. In Chicago, the thermometer plunged to minus 25-degrees air temperature accompanied by minus 50-degree windchill.

But the long slog is winding down. Oh, for sure, most Midwesterners have lived here long enough to know winter does not go quietly. A week ago, temps reached the mid-60s followed by a temperature drop Sunday that resulted in five inches of snow an hour south of Chicago. Measurable snow is not off the table, on rare occasions accumulating in April.

However, the days are getting longer. Snow in Chicagoland, that has hung around past its prime, following the last big snow a few weeks ago, has finally melted. The first peak at yards and park space allows us to imagine a time in the coming weeks when everything blooms, turning green and lush.

Birds arrived in late-February and signaled change was coming, chirping full throat at 6 a.m. Nests are beginning to appear. About the same time birds arrived baseball clubs began spring training in Florida and Arizona.

The real game changer of course was Daylight Savings Time. Finally signed into national law by President Lyndon Johnson in 1966, nothing changes psyche more than the simple act of moving clocks ahead one hour in early-March. Presto! It’s now light until 7:00 p.m.!

Another spring measuring stick is St. Patrick’s Day. Especially for those in Chicagoland.

The pressure-less holiday

St. Patrick’s Day is the no pressure holiday, unless you are the weatherman counted on to deliver a spring-like forecast. Or in the boat responsible for turning the Chicago River fluorescent green.

Fortunately, St. Patrick’s Day has not been hyper-commercialized as have Christmas, Thanksgiving and Halloween.

Other holidays have pressure. Cook the perfect meal. Buy the right gift. Secure a reservation at a top restaurant. Dress up in a unique costume. Not St. Patrick’s Day, which is still a fun day of parades, green beer and anticipation.

If you are in a relationship, by this time of year the Devils Triangle of dating is behind you. Did you pass or fail to buy the right Christmas gift, plan the perfect New Year’s Eve celebration, and get the best table at a romantic restaurant on Valentine’s Day?

Savor the time

The annual rebirth from winter to spring is savored more as you age. Surviving another winter and another year, with the hopefulness of warmer weather at hand, comforts venerable souls.

Neighbors, who for three months waved from the warmth of their cars, begin conversing and reconnecting outside. Groups of walkers start walking again.

A neighbor in his mid-70’s once told me he did not want to die in the spring. A few years later he passed away in February and, while we miss him, I was glad he got his wish not to die during the glory of the awakening spring.

(Carly Simon put it best singing, “We can never know about the days to come, but we think about them anyway. Anticipation, anticipation is makin’ me late, is keepin’ me waitin’.”)

Spring, early-spring, is the time of great anticipation. Around here, the six months that lie ahead, from April through September, are free from snow plows and road salt and ice scrapers.

Instead, the approaching half-year is filled with morning dew and brilliant sunshine, and equally brilliant afternoon thunderstorms and, sometimes, awe-inspiring rainbows.

Soon enough, too soon, really – signaling we’ve reached summer’s peak – lighting bugs appear, joined by dueling choirs of crickets and cicadas. And urgency creeps in.

But not to worry about that now. Instead, dream about the luxurious springtime fragrance of lilac bushes and magnolia trees. And the satisfying smell of freshly cut grass. Think of sitting on a covered porch, listening to a spring shower’s rejuvenating patter of raindrops.

Play ball!

Even if your favorite team does not qualify, March Madness takes spring up another notch. More than anything else in sports, even more than the Super Bowl, March Madness brings America together.

From the conference tournaments that help determine who’s in and who’s out, to the big announcement of the brackets on Selection Sunday, to the early round games (and upsets), to the Sweet Sixteen, Elite Eight and Final Four, nothing quite stirs the imagination and the emotions like March Madness.

When March Madness ends sports segues to baseball, in a smooth handoff that would make Olympics relay teams proud.

Sports play a big role in the rebirth that is spring in the Midwest. Evenings at the golf driving range, when the air is warm and floodlights brighten the night sky, are priceless.

Seeing high school cross-country teams running, almost skipping, alongside roads reminds us of warmer weather ahead.

Bountiful glory

The magnificence of spring is showcased when buds bloom into leaves and flowers. Visibly unrivaled is nature’s announcement that spring renewal is in full swing, as trees blossom, covered in leaves. Seemingly, it happens overnight. Long dormant trees explode in a coat of leaves at once breathtaking and reassuring.

Nirvana occurs the first time you realize it is warm enough to roll down the car window. The simple gesture of placing your arm on the top of the door may be taken for granted if you live in year-round warm weather. Opening the sunroof is another rite of the Midwest’s spring rebirth, as is sitting on the porch or patio for the first time. Heavenly!

So, snip the umbilical cord that tethers winter and spring. The rebirth has begun. And the Midwest is the place to be.

Ode to the Midwest:

Kites and sails rise pushed by a strong breeze, now bike rides are made with relative ease.

Flip flops appear on women’s feet, outdoors men grill the butcher’s meat.

Kids tumble on the soft grassy ground, sleek race cars go around and around.

Winter is over we say with glee, there’s no place else we’d rather be.

It won’t last long so eat it up, spring is the Midwest’s buttercup.

Douglas FreelandMarch 21, 2019