He'll take blame for short spring (04/25/07)

Somebody has to step up to the plate.

So I guess it'll have to be me.

That recent nasty stretch of cold weather that nearly ruined spring? It was, as best I can figure, my fault.

It started back in March when the area was blessed with a magical period when spring seemed to have arrived with a glorious bang. Temperatures shot into the 70s. The sun returned after all those months of gray and gloom. And everything that could bloom decided to bloom.

Daffodils took off like crazy, and the redbud trees were just hours away from popping like pink fireworks.

One amazing afternoon, I mowed the lawn, setting some sort of record for early mowing at our house.

On a Sunday afternoon when the early spring burst was going full tilt, we opened up some windows to let in the fresh air and get rid of the remnants of winter.

And that's when I made my fatal error. Apparently afflicted with a bout of temporary amnesia, I forgot that we live in the Midwest. I forgot about all those ancient jokes about how if you don't like the weather right now just wait a couple minutes because it's going to change.

"I'm thinking of putting the screen in the storm door," I told my wife.

She, of course, assumed I had lost my mind. That tends to happen when spring rolls around.

And she tried to talk me out of it, reminding me that the last frost in our area isn't until May 15.

But I can't say I was listening. When she left for the supermarket, I started looking for a screwdriver.

We have an old wooden storm door at the front of the house, one that was probably custom-made given its odd dimensions. Four little thingies that screw into the wood hold a glass storm window in place in the wintertime. Remove them, pop in the screen, tighten the little thingies back up, and presto, you're ready for warm weather.

She shook her head when she got home from the supermarket, more convinced than ever that spring fever had sent me around the bend.

But it was marvelous all afternoon. A warm breeze blew through the house, and I could hear birds chirping from where I sat in the living room.

And that did it.

Within 24 hours, spring - deciding to smack down the eager beaver who had switched from storms to screen - disappeared like a magician's assistant. Winter roared back into town with a vengeance.

The daffodils stopping showing off and drooped to the ground. Wind whipped out of every direction at once. And snow made a curtain-call appearance, as if we couldn't get enough of its cold act.

So, there you have it. It's all my fault.

Next year, I'll wait a bit longer before I make the switch to screens. Like maybe until Memorial Day.[[In-content Ad]]