In a fortuitously short amount of time, winter’s frigid, sub-zero grip loosened, and out slipped a seemingly balmy, mid-forty degree, early spring thaw. March had arrived by wrenching itself free from the icy little fist of February, and with it came visions of warmth that, only a month earlier, would have seemed more like hallucinations.

Spring was about to come knocking on the door and Harrison Winkle sat on his porch swing, impatiently awaiting its arrival. Harry’s house sits on the corner and has a large, wrap-around porch — the perfect place for a retired guy like Harry to sit and watch the world do what the world does.

When he worked at the factory, Harry was very good at doing, what he did. Now, with just a year of practice under his belt, he was getting pretty good at doing whatever this retirement thing was all about. Sitting on the front porch seemed to be a big part of it.

“You think it’s warm out here, just because some fool told you to turn your clock ahead by one hour? You aren’t getting any extra hour of sunshine, ya’ know.” Jimmy said he came strolling by, just as he usually does at this time in the afternoon. Seeing Harry basking in the warmth of the sun on his porch swing, gave Jimmy a ready target for his annual spring rant over switching the clocks to daylight saving time.

“It’s a stupid idea and we’re all stupid for going along with it.”

“Good to see you, too,” scoffed Harry. “Want some lemonade with special fixins?”

“I could have some lemonade.”

“Bring any fixin’s?”

“Nope. Didn’t know you’d be sitting on your porch.

“Good. I haven’t made any lemonade, yet either.”

Jimmy ascended the four ancient, but well preserved, curved steps at the bend of Harry’s big wrap-around porch, and assumed his place of honor on the dais. After Harry took the protective cover off and cleaned the venerated porch swing, he also retrieved from winter storage a worn, but still very useful, wicker chair. Since the two men had retired, these two pieces of furniture had become their powerful command chairs, from which to observe and discuss the Human Condition.

“Why are you out here, sitting on the porch? It’s still winter.”

“It’s March.”

“And forty-two degrees outside. There’s still snow on the ground.”

“The snow is melting. There’s more grass showing than snow. I’ve got crocuses popping up, next to the house by the dryer vent. Spring is here.”

“That’s not grass. It’s brown stubble. You won’t have grass for, at least, another month – maybe two. Then you’ll kill the crabgrass, fertilize the lawn, and have to mow it twice a week.”

Jimmy propped his feet up on the railing and opened his jacket, as he joined Harry, basking in the afternoon sun that filled the south side of the wrap-around porch. “Besides, it’s only March. We haven’t seen the last of the snow.”

Jimmy closed his eyes as the vivid sunshine burst through the crisp blue sky.

“That’s my plan.” Harry was in full agreement with Jimmy’s assessment of the, hopefully, near future. “Mowing the lawn is a whole lot more fun than snow-chucking off the driveway — and, I can do it wearing shorts instead of Carhartt coveralls.”

“I’ve seen your legs. You look better in coveralls,” Jimmy said, pleased with this astute observation and quickly followed it up with the smirk that usually accompanies one of his set-up questions. “Got the spark plug changed in your lawn mower, yet?”

“Figure I’ll do that tomorrow.”

“I did mine, yesterday.”

Conversations on the big, wrap-around porch were in full bloom.

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.