You know how I was just saying that I felt like my short story reading was all over the place this year? Now that I am about to say that I feel as though my spring reading was all over the place too, doesn’t that suggest something is afoot? If it’s an element of my short story reading, and a factor in my themed reading—could it be…me? Maybe *I* am a little all over the place this year… and I’ve only just noticed it in my reading?
Whether or not that’s true, spring started popping up all over the place in my reading. Even in books that I hadn’t selected as spring reads. Like Paul Lynch’s Prophet Song (2023), which Lauren B. Davis recommended when it was new—and, also, more recently—which finally got it into my stack. (I’m warning you: her recommendation list will have a noticeable impact on your TBR list.)
“She finds herself wishing for a stop to spring, for the day’s decrease, for the trees to go blind again, for the flowers to be taken back into the earth, for the world to be glassed to winter.”
And I also wasn’t expecting to find springtime in John A. Williams’ The Man Who Cried I Am (1967), which is likely to be on MY list of recommendations for this year. It’s available in a lovely Library of America reprint or from Fitzcarraldo overseas.
“The sap of the earth began to run beneath the ground that Friday; spring teased the air. Windows that had been bolted against the winter were opened briefly. A few elderly people bundled themselves up and sat on the park benches, their pale faces lifted to the sun.”
Even though there is a solid thread of melancholy in Nina Berkhout’s This Bright Dust (2024), Abel’s thoughts on spring focus on the possibility of new beginnings:
“He wished to start over. As the crocus did each spring. Abel never tired of searching through the disappearing snow for windflowers, as the Peloquins called them.”
Whether on the prairies or in the Maritimes, what’s now eastern Canada, that first glimpse of spring does allude to promise and potential. As it does in Ernest Buckler’s The Mountain and the Valley (1952):
“The touch of sun at the hollow of his throat made Joseph’s heavy jacket for the first time this year a winter thing. For the first time the soft wind in the stirring trees was close and of this place alone.”
And speaking of receding cold, spring’s temperamental nature makes an appearance in Thomas King’s Black Ice (2024), the latest in the Dreadfulwater series:
“Spring on the high plains was a magic act. Now you see it. Now you don’t. Today, spring was back again, and this time it had brought summer with it.”
In which it is also noted that “[s]pring would be a bad time to die. Spring is a time for enthusiasm.”
Where I expected to find some enthusiastic seasonal descriptions was Lucy Maud Montgomery’s The Blue Castle (1926) which Bill and I read at the beginning of May because that’s where the story begins, but only later do we have this curious statement:
“Aunt Isabel thought the springs were changing and couldn’t imagine what had become of our good, old-fashioned springs.”
It reminded me that change is slow and long, until it is not. And, yet, this spring has been the first in many years which was a true spring to my mind.
In recent years, the lilacs were no sooner blooming than they were crisping. This year they have been lush and are long-lasting. The forsythia bloomed for two weeks. The crabapple has only just burst forth, and I have never gotten such a good look at its blooms.
For well over ten years, the loads of laundry in May have been filled with shorts and tank tops; this year, the laundry is stuffed with such an assortment that one wouldn’t be able to guess what season it is: everything from heavy fleece and fuzzy socks, to summer pyjama pants (and only one load with a pair of shorts).
But not one of these books was in my stacks because I have been making a point of reading more seasonally this year. But I have been. I’ll have more to say about that soon.
Which of these feels most akin to your most recent experience of spring? (Although, that will be a half year ago, for southern hemisphere readers, of course.)
I love this spring-y post! And what a nice surprise to see that you read This Bright Dust and The Mountain and the Valley. What prompted you to read those ones?
Keeping these little sightings for the seasons has definitely been fun this year, I think I’ll keep up the habit. Buckler I read for #club1952 (you knew that, you just forgot!) and Berkhout for this review (I think you knew this too, but I mentioned it too long ago for it to stick in your mind, way back whenever you read it and told me how much you cried and I say stoooooop, don’t tell me that, now you reemember, right? LOL).
Yup, now I remember both! Lol
Spring is not my favourite month, and it’s exactly because of Thomas King’s ““Spring on the high plains was a magic act. Now you see it. Now you don’t. Today, spring was back again, and this time it had brought summer with it.” The things I love about Spring (which I just can’t help capitalising)are the increasing length of the days, the fact that warm weather follows, and the blossoms and leaves returning to trees. What I don’t like about Spring is its changeablity. I get lulled into thinking it’s now short-sleeve weather – I don’t really do shorts and tanktops – wham, back comes a cold wind. This happens right through to Christmas here, which means well into what we call the first month of Summer (given we start Summer on 1 December).
Summer is definitely here now but, even so, the changeability remains. Last week there were heat warnings and public cooling centres (libraries, mostly) but, a few days later, I was in my flannel PJs and a sweater one morning. It wrecks havoc on the laundry, doesn’t it! Something else that I don’t recall from springtime years ago is mosquitos. I think the overnight temperatures were cool enough to discourage much mosquito activity but, now, they’re biting as soon as the temperature warms (maybe an increase in humidity has changed their prevalence, rather than increased temperature…it is a wet heat here).
OMG spring in the mountains is something entirely different. It basically doesn’t exist here in Alberta. I remember spring so fondly from my Ontario days, but here it turns from winter to summer overnight. The only ‘in-between’ phase here is lilac season. There are a ton of lilacs in downtown Calgary where I live, which I love. I planted a lilac bush in my garden because i just love the smell. There’s even a ‘lilac fest’ which is a huge street festival. But lilacs come out here quite late – early June.
That spring doesn’t exist down south anymore either, and it’s the first northern spring that I remember being like this too. The lilacs down there only last a couple of days before they are crisped up and little husks of smells-that-used-to-be, so this is pretty exceptional, but I’m loving it. I know there are different kinds of lilacs (besides different colours… which is often my way of distinguishing between growing things… on people I notice hairstyles and clothing not faces… these are NOT useful skills lol). Maybe you know more if you’ve bought one? I love the idea of a Lilac Fest. What a wonderful thing to celebrate!
Oh, Prophet song, that’s a good book! and it hits very close to home with the way things are going right now.
As for spring, it has been more “normal” this year here too except for the two 90F days we had in May. Still, things are on the cooler side even now, which is perfect for early June. The quote from Black Ice is spring in MN every single year, it just happens in March more often than in April these days 🙂
It was very eerie, eh? With the sheer ordinariness of it affecting the narrator’s husband’s work in the offhanded way it did…all a matter of definition changes. Like with the women in Handmaid’s Tale losing the capacity to access their bank accounts, to work outside the home.
We just planted the last two planters on the weekend, so it’s officially summer now. /smirks (But it was only 11 these past weekend mornings.) All bird and bee (flowers), and ground critter (berries) focussed here, except for two large planters of herbs and a small experiment of mustard greens (also in a container).
How striking that in 1926 LMM was voicing concern over a change in the seasons! I like your tangential approach to spring here. As others have said, we have warm weather headed our way here, such that I’ll have to hope not to boil in the inferno of the Underground when I go into London next week for an awards ceremony. No doubt it will then be cold and rainy on our holiday in Scotland while I try to get into some summery books…
Right?! I was so surprised, but it’s an excellent reminder that this has been a Thing since the industrial “revolution”, ao of course there would have been changes to note after a few decades. Is this the one with the resident cat? Eeeek, so exciting! You’ll have to read some Enid Blyton mysteries about rainy days on summer holidays that result in a mystery unfolding in an attic or root cellar. hee hee
It looks as though the temperatures are about to rise here for a few days, so I’m looking forward to plenty of sunshine and the occasional shower, such is the way of things in the UK. Prophet Song seems to have divided opinion over here as I’ve seen everything from well-argued criticism to outright raves. I’m curious to hear how you find it!
Ohhh, how interesting. I have only heard the praise and steered clear of most interviews because I felt like the spoiler-potential was high. My suspicion would be that the era of uncertainty makes readers feel unmoored (because those are uncertain times) whereas some prefer a stronger authorial hand (which also affects how readers experience time passing). And that it could trouble some readers how passively some of the characters behave (because it is troubling when people don’t stand up for what is right and fair). Now you’ve got me curious…I’ll investigate!
Wow, I’m going down a rabbit hole on Laura B Davis’ blog!
Normally, I would quietly edit your typo and leave a note, but it occurred to me that this could be a universal battle of the Lauras versus the Laurens! Akin to the war between the Marcias and the Marcies.
Your TBR is likely a good chunk longer now!
Well we’ve had rain with a thunderstorm warning today and I was in a fleece and quick-dry trousers and a raincoat!
I hate the feeling of a rain jacket on a hot summer’s day, that stickyness, but it it was cool enough for fleece that probably wasn’t an issue for you!
Echoing Madame Bibi, and hoping we didn’t have all our summer crammed into May. Change seems to be happening rapidly and unpredictably.
I think I heard that you are getting some of the smoke from Canadian wildfires where you are…surely that feels like summer? /winces
It’s been a really changeable Spring here too Marcie, jumpers one day, t-shirts the next. It’s my favourite season so I really enjoyed hearing about your Spring reads.
I love knowing it’s your favourite season. Knowing that someone else loves the seasons I don’t (or love less) makes me feel better about them somehow.
This was my first full spring in our mountains home, so for me it was all new and novel as I took note of what bloomed when and for how long and which plants I might like to eventually plant in in our garden. I did fall in love with the long-lasting colourful azaleas though, so will have to have a few of the pink/purple varieties in my garden for sure. And thanks to my perimenopausal hot flushes I certainly thought a few times (like in the Lynch Book) that it would be easier for me to go back to winter days – hot flushing on a hot summers day is VERY uncomfortable!
Your azalea fascination sounds akin to my dahlia infatuation. We got some last year because I couldn’t find any gerber daisies so, at hte time, they were second-choice, but this year we have more dahlias than gerbers (but both are lovely and cheery and endlessly flowering…if you deadhead). It’s wonderful seeing some happy bees and insects around them too. That would be uncomfortable to manage during the summer; I don’t fare well health-wise in the summer, even under the best of circumstances. Bring on the lemonade and ice.
Did I see Spring in The Prophet or in The Blue Castle? No I was too busy reading, paying attention to the story.
In Western Australia trees don’t lose their leaves, well not except the plane trees councils grow up the centre of suburban streets, and their annual releafing is forgotten in the great purple blooming of the jacarandas.
Out in the deserts where I work spring is heralded by the yellows of all the different wattles and by carpets of pale wildflowers, just a couple of months away now, winters here are short.
But I do remember that you enjoyed the way she describes the natural world, more generally, so you must have liked those seasonal bits anyway!
There are few more needled trees up here that don’t lose their leaves (compared to southern Ontario) but this year we still haven’t gotten above 27 so the leafy trees have taken their sweet time unfurling…it has felt like quite the DISPLAY.
Most people here would love the sound of a short winter (but not me, yikes). It must be very nice to see those carpets of flowers come through.