My Dearest Buds and Blossoms:
Spring has sprung, and buds are blooming. The cherry blossoms are coloring the landscape with pink, and the forsythia with yellow. Foliage is beginning to sprout from winter’s bare trees like hair on a pubescent twelve-year-old. Our world is renewed. The miracle of seasonal rebirth. Sounds wonderful, right? Umm, NO!
As someone who has survived 35 consecutive springs (give or take a few years—I don’t recognize the leap years as a concept), you know a boy has to keep a few secrets hidden under sunscreen and some carefully applied concealer. I, Gaylord Goforth, offer you this essential guide for navigating nature’s most confusing quarter.
1. Respect the Pollen: As the flowers and foliage come, so comes the pollen, with blankets of “yellow dust” covering everything in sight like nature’s glitter bomb. It dusts your car, your lungs, and your will to live. Resist the urge to write messages in it like “WHY” or “SEND HELP.” The pollen thrives on attention. Springtime’s jaundiced landscape brings allergy sufferers a special gift. Put on your new spring wardrobe to show off your runny nose and watery red eyes. Hopefully, everyone will notice your Louis Vuitton windbreaker and not the Kleenex blooming from your nostrils.
2. Dress in Layers, Like an Onion With Anxiety: Spring fashion is less about style and more about dressing with a backup plan. Begin with a T-shirt, add a pastel shirt, add a sweater, then a light jacket, then possibly another jacket you’re not sure you’ll need, but bring it anyway. By noon, you’ll be carrying all of these items in your arms like a yard sale of poor decisions. Sometime between 10 AM and lunch, you’ll question every choice that led you here. The temperature will change more times than Michael Jackson’s nose. Bless his heart, and your upper body strength.
3. Temperature Roulette: The Heat of the Moment: Meteorologists are predicting we’re moving into a “super” El Niño. This climate pattern causes hotter weather. But girlfriend, don’t tell your cute local weatherman that it’s already here. I've seen enough heat fluctuations to know that Mother Nature is going through menopause. One day, there is a frost warning, and the next, we’re in summer heat. It’s only April, and it’s ninety. Mama N. needs to ask God for some estrogen patches before my HVAC goes on strike. My thermostat has already left me a digital message: “Make up your mind, bitch; it’s either heat or AC. I can’t do both.” Just know that when you venture outside, bring an umbrella, sunglasses, and the emotional resilience of a divorce attorney.
4. Beware the Birds: Spring is when birds return. Although you never extended an invitation, they’re back, roosting in your trees like unruly tenants with an attitude. They’ve practiced all winter, and now they’re louder and more self-assured than ever. Beware of the flying poop. They aim with the precision of a military drone. Your car windshield, your new laundered clothes, and the top of your head—nothing is sacred. They’ll sit outside your window and chirp at 5:10 AM like they’re warming up for La Traviata. Do not engage. Do not make eye contact. They have eggs to protect, and they’ll “cut you.”
5. The Attack of the Lawn People: At the first hint of warmth, your neighborhood will suddenly fill with individuals who have binge-watched Martha Stewart during the dark days of January and come out radicalized. They emerge with gardening gloves and a deep spiritual connection to grass, not the fun kind, unfortunately. They will mow, trim, edge, and plant, and they want to aggressively discuss their new bougainvillea. Honey, it’s a horticultural horror. I don’t know bougainvillea from veal parmigiana. When you emerge from your winter hibernation, tell your neighbor you’ve had COVID since Christmas. Then, you won’t be invited to “come see the new fertilizer spreader.”
6. Spring Cleaning Is a Lie: I hope you’re not picking one season to give your house a thorough cleaning like you’re auditioning for a detergent commercial. If you think this is the time of year to dust mop under furniture, clean out window sills, and spray some Windex on the patio sliders, you need to question all your life choices and possibly your upbringing. Dust bunnies should not replace your ottoman. Pilfering through your wardrobe in May to see if there are some clothes to discard is a blasphemy. Haven’t you heard of stock rotation? Clearly, you’re not retail-adjacent… pitiful. Deciding which clothes to donate because you’re not sure if they’re still fashionable shouldn’t be like a quest to the Himalayas to ask the Dalai Lama if Jordache jeans are still in style. (A Goforth Tip: Check the clothing hanging in your closet. If there is a layer of dust on anything, it is dead, and Goodwill is calling it into the afterlife.)
7. Prepare for Social Reemergence: Friends and family start suggesting “going outside” and “doing things.” You may be invited to a picnic where a cornhole game is set up. Remember, it’s important to socialize and drink in that wonderful vitamin D, but you don’t have to go near a cornhole board. The name itself should offend you. It sounds slightly pornographic, and after my Google search, don’t wander in the vicinity of any open holes. There will be time for leisurely walks and festive gatherings where someone inevitably says, “Isn’t the weather amazing?” You must nod, even if you’re sweating more than your frosty glass of lemonade, and your hay fever is in full swing. Just cross your fingers and hope no one saw you sneeze on the charcuterie board.
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