I Hope For Spring To Be Here Soon

Here we are in the middle of March, and looking at the calendar
it says that Spring soon will be here. Now I live in the midwest
and am smart enough to know that just because the calendar says
it's spring doesn't make it so.

Spring, to me, brings hope. We have had a terrible winter in
this part of the United States, with lots of snow and brutally
cold temperatures. Soon, however, we will hear the crack of the
bat and two of my favorite words, "Play ball." We will hear birds
singing, and see leaves on the trees. The unmistakable sounds of
a lawn mower and the smell of newly cut grass will fill the air.
And the days, well, they'll just keep getting longer.

As a person who is blind I don't feel I miss out on much of the
beauty of the spring season. I can hear the birds and smell the
flowers and plants as "you come to life. I can feel the air as
it warms up, heading us toward summer.

There is, one thing however, about this spring that will be sad
for me. For over 35 years, my father has looked forward to
spring for getting into the fields, working the ground and
planting the crops. He won't be doing that for the first time in
all those years this year. This is because he has decided to
retire from farming and will be having a farm sale very soon.

Not only has the farm been where my dad worked tirelessly to
plant, tend to and harvest his crops, but it also is where I grew
up. It's where I learned how to ride a bike, weed a garden, and
many other things. The farm held me close as I grew from a boy
into a man. With the farm sale will go a large piece of my
childhood.

So as I look forward to Spring this year with enthusiasm, that
enthusiasm will be tempered a bit by what this spring season
means to my family and the place I grew up and still call home.
Will will devote at least one blog entry to the farm before the
sale.