Are you ready? Good… then let shagging season begin.

Yup, it’s springtime.

Last weekend I began pruning my Ambrosia apple and Italian prune plum trees, sure signs of spring that, in these global warming times, mean more than the return of robins – in this area of British Columbia many robins stopped migrating south in the winter about 10 years ago.

More spring inspiration? This week I was reading the book Bambi to my grandson and was refreshed on the perennial spring ritual of Twitterpation… sweet… but today, seismic global changes have ritualized us into a perpetual Twitter Nation.

Horniness replaced by irritation and rage.

I long for the return of that lovely twitterpation every spring… can’t help myself. There’s a building pressure and excitement inside… long daylight days, greenery pushing through the earth, birds darting everywhere.

I don’t know about you, but this spring feels differently different… yup, different yet familiar, because 2 spring seasons back we all began the crazy journey of pandemic “social isolation”.

That spring of 2020 was VERY different… remember?

  • We formed quiet lineups outside grocery stores… toilet paper shortages… futile searches for yeast or bottled water.
  • We disinfected canned goods and vegetables when they arrived in our homes.
  • We hesitantly began donning face masks and adopted strange interactional rituals such as elbow bumps.
  • We avoided restaurants and movie theatres like… well, like the plague.
  • We took in newscasts overfilled with stories of ICU units jammed with the dead and dying, tractor trailer morgues outside hospitals, impassioned daily updates by the likes of Anthony Fauci, Andrew Cuomo and our local health bosses.
  • We anxiously anticipated the invention of a miracle-vaccine pulled from a science magician’s hat.

Yes, spring 2020 was much more Twitter Nation than Spring Twitterpation.

Twitterpation is filled with enthusiasm and ebullient zest… Twitter Nation often unwinds with bitter vitriol.

There was no zest in March 2020…. twitterpation just melted away with the dirty winter snows… leaving behind a trail of…

… worry, fear, and uncertainty that filled our hearts and minds. Here’s a song (The Blessing and the Curse) I wrote and recorded in those dusky times reflecting that virus-laden uncertainty…

Then one day the miracle vaccine arrived. Hallelujah, we’re saved. We stood in vaccine lines breathing a collective sigh of relief. Sort of…

And yet – plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose

Here we are in the twitterpation time of year once again… but…

… the worry, the fear, the uncertainty is still with us.

But, not so much arising today from a nasty biological virus, but from a surging maniacal pathogen called Putin.

This virulent bug has infected the human body, and humanity’s immunity systems are struggling just as they did with the COVID contagion.

The world is getting screwed and it doesn’t feel like the giddy sensation of twitterpation at all. Not a bit.

Ukraine is a rape victim that resists and struggles, but, weaker than the wretched perpetrator who insists upon having his way, will likely… sadly… succumb.

Through the unexpected and unwanted destruction and sadness, and with no easy answers in sight, I have to find solace and hopeful signs even when the forward view is bleak.

In spring, hope springs eternal, so…

I’ll leave you with an Emily Dickinson poem that highlights both the beauty of spring light and also the perishability, the impermanence, of spring… the blessing and the curse of our times you might say…

Emily Dickinson

A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period —
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay —

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.

Blooms in Ukraine’s Carpathian Mountains