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Spring, the way it once was

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Ah, spring! It`s the time when we long for colour – a change from the all-white landscape – and in our daydreams we see new green leaves, the yellow and purple of the crocus, red and yellow tulips and blue, rushing water.

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Yet as I write this today, we are expecting a wicked, late-winter snowstorm. As Alexander Pope once said, “Hope springs eternal.” Whether you honour March 20 or 21 as the first day of spring, we realize that by living in Northern Ontario, this could mean the elusive first day could become a date in mid to late April. To many of us though, spring is a whole season and one to remember.

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I recall the days when women`s clubs teamed up with local ladies’ wear stores, set up venues, easily sold out all available tickets and presented fashion shows. Sometimes the models only featured the latest in Easter bonnets for both ladies and little girls. Other models walked across the stages in church basements, community centres or Legion halls while wearing the newest fashions in dresses and coats. Most of the appreciative audience arrived wearing heavy woolen or fur coats, but following the shows, the stores were soon sold out of the summery garments featured that night.

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The ladies forgot for the evening at least, the dreaded Spring Cleaning – a time when everything in the house that could be cleaned, was cleaned.

In spring it was said, a young man`s fancy turns to love – be that of a girl or a brand-new car. Every spring, all the car dealers would welcome the arrival of the latest models. It was a time when there was no ice in the arenas, so a huge space was available for the newest cars to be put on display. Salesmen were eager to show the latest in 1955 innovations such as tubeless, white-walled tires. Shiny models that year might have been the Ford Fairlane or Thunderbird, or a Chevrolet Bel Air – all with V-8 engines. Also, on display that year was the Plymouth Belvedere, Olds Fiesta, a Studebaker or the Dodge Desoto with its heterodyne radio; 1955 was the year that Hudson and Nash merged to produce the first American Motors Rambler.

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Men took home several of the many books and pamphlets given them by the eager salesmen, whether with intent to purchase or just to dream.

Children also knew spring was in the air. One sure sign was seeing little boys and a few girls, shooting marbles towards a small hole dug in the ground or endeavoring to knock out an opponent`s marble in order to capture it. The winner of course, would put their day`s catch in a pouch with a drawstring closure. A prized pouch was a purple Seagram`s bag. Little girls knew spring was the time to bring out their skipping ropes. Chalk diagrams for hopscotch appeared on sidewalks. Balls were tossed on buildings to play endless games of A-Meemie, A-Clapsie, A-Rollaball, A-Bapsie.

Another sure sign of spring came with the snow melt. As the water took a chosen path, tiny boats were made with sails of paper attached to Popsicle sticks then guided towards a storm drain, where they were picked up and taken back to the starting point. The process was repeated. When the neighbourhood streets were bare of snow, boys and girls scavenged the local service stations for oil cans to play cricket or kick-the-can.

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Having been urged to participate in Victory Gardens during the war, many families still had a dedicated space in their yards to plant flower and vegetable gardens. The seed catalogues were mailed to the homeowner in January and after sending an order through the post office (with a postage stamp) their seeds had arrived. With spring in the air, egg cartons were used to start seedlings which could be transplanted to a garden as soon as there was no danger of frost.  Coming full circle, the dreams of green leaves, yellow, purple, orange and red flowers would either beautify flower gardens or produce tasty vegetables for summer eating or be preserved for next winter`s meals.

Today though, as the pending snowstorm approaches, I think of the phrase from the poet, Percy Bysshe Shelley, “If winter is here, can spring be far behind?”

That’s my view from Over the Hill.

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