This Is My Grand Daoughter Kyra  

Spring, The Nesting Season!

Nesting season is how I refer to this time of year at our house. My honey goes through weeks(sometimes months)of preparation for this event. I believe my mother and grand mother referred to this as "spring cleaning." That hormone driven, biological clock that beats beneath the breast of persons of the female persuasion has once again announced the arrival of that annual period of time. I feel in my innermost self that even state and local governments are contributors to the arrival of this event. City wide cleanings are scheduled so that old 'stuff' can be thrown out to make room for new 'stuff' soon to be found at garage, rummage and yard sales. One must listen carefully to discern the first feint rumblings of this approaching storm. The warning comes often as little comments missed by the male of the species. Such as, "I can't believe how dirty these drapes(blinds, window converings, shades)have gotten!" We hear it, but we really don't want to. And, as if it might work this year, we try to miss or dismiss the hints of impending upheaval. God has built into the feminine psyche this eternal time keeper that is more accurate that any atomic clock created by human endeavor. Closets that were once comfortably filled with things we could find, have regurgitated their entire contents into hallways only to be reassembled elsewhere to "save space." Shelves are examined by the female eye, which measures more accurately, I have discovered, than any device we have yet invented. Without the assistance of a micrometer, yard stick or tape, these measurements are taken and decisions are made based on that scale the feminine mind is equipped with at birth. If anyone knows how dust gets on the shelves under the boxes please let me know. I have been suffering ignorance in respect to this phenomenon for at least five decades. At present I would say that we are about halfway through this year's experience of "nesting." But this is only the first of the spring crazed, half aware, hormonally driven mind of my personal female counterpart. Next there will be another symptom of spring that will rear it's ugly head from the nether world of winter. Have you heard it as yet? Here it is(you're on the way home from picking up groceries together and you pass a parking lot with construction under way) "Oh, look honey! They're getting the garden center ready. Do you have the tiller and the lawnmower running yet?" Yes, it is time to build the nest outdoors, too. Native Americans had an out many years ago, they would mount their horses and ride off in search of the migrating buffalo herd. Cowboys have got it made, they have fences to ride and cattle to move. For the urban dweller(ie-me)there is no safe haven. Even within the confines of our workshops and personal sanctuaries that wonderful sound of nesting can be discerned, "Honey, can you help me? This will only take a minute." Which inevitably rouses me from the confines of my cave where I keep my Harley's and an assortment of tools for accomplishing the tasks associated with every season. A wise man once told me, "Never pass up a chance to be the hero!" So, off I go to be my honey's hero again. I love that part. God bless, Preacher.