SPRINGTIME

Evening Post, Volume CXXIV, Issue 57, 4 September 1937, Page 26

SPRINGTIME

ITS SIGHTS & SOUNDS

THE SPIRIT OF THE SEASON

(Written for "The Post" by A. B. Cochran.)

Spring is hero. Spring is here. The, air is full of atmosphere!

—and of many another thing of which it is possible to sing in equally nonsensical verse. Witness the following:—

Why doth the old King peg his nose? He thinks the Queen a funny-un. The Queen loves all that Springtime brings,

And Springtime bring3'the unny-un.

Unconscionable versifying, of course, but:is not irresponsibility the very essence of the season? The young man's fancy turns lightly, and he leaves home in the morning not knowing for a certainty, whether it will be to take Janet to morning tea at the K. and C, whether he will'suddenly decide on a hallholiday'for himself, or whether he will return m' the evening poorer by five, twenty, or a, hundred pounds and richer by the acquisition of a radio set, a'section at Paraparaumu, the "Encyclopaedia Britanriica," an engagement ring, or. the latest Packford "eight" (deposit only, of course). ■; As far as the corresponding moods of the weather are concerned, few expressions in the language seem to me more suggestive than one from an old song, namely, an "April Shower" (incidentally a perfect, and perfectly appropriate, succession of sounds). The day:will begin promisir.^'i' cno-j^h—^ A < blue sky of Spring, ; White clouds on the wing and folk will be tempted to- abandon their coats and assume light and airy garments, and without warning there they are scattering .for shelter from pelting rain, a drenching,, but brief arid really good-natured, downpour, comparable in its in tensity and brevity to the tears of childhood. A few* moments and it is' all over, with the sun again in charge. "THE FLOWERS THAT BLOOM . . ." Other things besides fickle sunshine characterise the season: . Young Earth putteth forth the lovely things She hath been dreaming through lons winter nights; Death Hetb. low; Ms hidden footprints bloom; Upon his grave Ufa dances all In flowers. Not for nothing was the Spirit of the Spring represented in old pictures as a skyey maiden, clad in light, flowing robes, passing over mountain and pasture, and scattering her blossoms with lavish hand into every field- and garden, every grove and thicket, and even into the city streets. We will not, with James Thomson,1 describe the countryside then as one "boundless blush" (are not the flowers of springtime, with many bright exceptions, predominantly white in colour?), but the poet is surely right when he speaks about the "loosened" spring, an- 1 we may also approve his observation in these lines: From the moist meadow to the withered hill. Led by the breeze, tho \ivid verduro runs, And swells and deepens to the cherished eye. The, hawthorn whitens, and tho juicy gtoves Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees Till the whole leafy forest stands display'd In full luxuriance . . . "AND BIRDS IN EVERY BRAKE .." According^' to Shakespeare, it becomes something of a contest between flowers arid birds, with the former easy winners. " daffodils; That come before tho swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty." Let a 1 more modern poet, Humbert -Wolfe, speak to us of the latter. In common with dawn, spring .Is the Reason of larks. Thoy will he flinging The bright seed of song In the furrows of grey light. Till,the east Is gold with tho smooth sheaves of singing. In what follows, there are other things besides birds, but I give the order of the original. When all the London'boys begin with one accord their tops to spin, when girls through last year's rubbish grope for what looks like a skipping-rope, when even babies turn from croup to tumble with a wooden hoop, and minnows tremblo at the string— then London trembles Into spring. When every Bound Pond goose is chuckling at the perfection of her duckling, and two grey cygnets make the swan the proudest bird in Kensington; when tho, fresh water, stings like brine the gulls along the Serpentine, and «very sparrow has his fling, your ludshlp, that's the London spring. MEANING AND ASSOCIATION. Apart from the especial achievements of the'season, it acquires further value for the promise it brings,,the promise,l if you like, of a "summer of roses and wine," of swimming and sun-bath-ing, yachting and picnicking. "There will ;be sleep on the grass' at midday, and early rising in the morning, and long moonlight evenings with quiet walks; and we will sit with our wini dow; open; and hear the rooks."

But it is always better" to value a season for what it is in itself, and not lor what will follow. For most people spring will be associated with some-particular locality, Taupo and its broom, apple orchards in Nelson, japonica hedges in the Wairarapa, bulbs and violets by the lawns of Otaki. While appreciating all such, for my part I find no place or time more suggestive than Upland Road at, say, 1 p.m. on some bright Saturday afternoon of September or October. The cable car has set her crowd of workers oni their hurried way home from the city to the plans of the afternoon. A few, lucky ones, who have managed an early start, are already on their way back.to golf links or tennis courts, glorious in all the care freedom bestowed by plus-fours, flannels, or blazers. A crowded council bus dashes by. Now and again one catches the sound of an, early;lawn mower—harbinger again of long summer days and the scent of cut grass, Here and there before open garages stand capacious or sporty-loojdng cars receiving the final posing down before starting, off on a el"? to the Little Akaterawa. ITrom various points of vantage- the. Orongorongos loom;up 'invitingly,' and there are vistas out over'the gardens that recall some romantic part of the Rockies or the slopes and trees of Italian Fiesole.

Essentially the scene is one of movement, of life and activity, of anticipation of pleasures close at hand; above -", it brings to the eye and ear not

only; the sights and sounds of Nature in .springtime, but something of its meaningfor the race of men. Whether it be a call to ;the plough, or garden, cricket field or boat harbour, homebuilding or love-making, it is peculiarly a summons to be off and away

Up tho airy mountain ■ Down the rushy glen, away from the "street's dead dust and factory's:frown" to.fresh fields of endeavour and experience.

The invitation has never been more exquisitely expressed than in the words of the lover in the "Song of Songs."

- "My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

"For, 10, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.

"The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, arid the voice of, the turtle is heard in our land; , ,

"The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the. vines with the tender grapes give' a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away."