Ah, spring in Central Oregon.  There’s nothing else like it.

Thank goodness.

We all say the same thing to visitors to our area: “If you don’t like the weather; just wait five minutes.  It’ll change.”

In the first six weeks of spring this year we have had some very pleasant days and even a few that were just plain hot.  The record high for the day was broken several times. 

My fruit trees have cute little buds all over them.  The cherry tree even has a few blossoms. 

Plants that failed to make it through the harsh winter have been removed.  Colorful pansies have taken their place and little baby California poppies have sprouted and carpeted the yard in light green.

The sound of sputtering lawn mowers filled the air last weekend along with a great deal of enthusiastic profanity.  People have been seen cranking their handheld fertilizer spreaders with the white pellets generally going everywhere but their intended targets.  Lawn aerators have been rented and sidewalks are covered with little sod plugs that look like poop. 

Weeds, once held in check by the frozen ground, have sprung up in all the wrong places.  Sales of Round-Up have soared. 

For the first time in months the yard debris cans have been set at curbs, some overflowing with pine needles and dead brush. 

Tree pollen has smacked the entire population flat on its collective backs.  Even non-allergy sufferers have been hit hard.  A gentle shaking of a juniper sends clouds of allergens swirling in the breeze.  Some hoarding of Kleenex has been reported.  Cold and allergy medicines are actually being used for colds and allergies instead of meth production. 

Tulips have popped up from the ground only to be eaten to nubs by passing deer.  Birds have returned to the yard.  Robins, grosbeaks, finches, doves and quail are battling with the squirrels for domination of the feeders.  Stellar jays let their extreme displeasure be known when the peanut supply is allowed to run out.  The patio has been redecorated in an unattractive splat pattern leaving this animal lover to be grateful cats don’t fly.  Considering our kitty’s unerring accuracy in being able to plop a hairball in the worst possible location, one can only shudder in horror at the possibility of ever-cranky airborne felines.

Bugs have returned.  Although because of Central Oregon’s climate, fleas and cockroaches are absent, that doesn’t mean we’re insect-free.  Useless pests like ants and gnats are about but so are butterflies and bees.  Soon, Humphrey the lizard, who hibernates under our basketball pole, will emerge. 

Fruit with actual taste has returned to the produce aisles.  True Oregonians are able to wait until mid-summer when Oregon strawberries are available for all of two weeks but since I’m a native Californian, I’ll take all the San Joaquin Valley strawberries I can get my hands on.  Pride is overrated. 

My faith in a loving God has been restored because ice cream is back on sale.  I will never, ever, in a million years ever, understand those who decline ice cream because they “are full.”  Ice cream doesn’t take up any space, people.  It goes straight to the brain, if you are greedy like me and dive face first into the carton, you get brain freeze but after that passes, the ice cream molecules then latch onto the endorphins floating around in your head and makes everything right again.  And then you can have more.

With the change in seasons, baseball has returned.  My Padres had a great run right after I publically criticized them but are back in the tank like always so just let me say again, the Padres really suck.  Central Oregon is all ablaze with pride since our native son, Jacoby Ellsbury of the Boston Red Sox, stole home against the Yankees.  We don’t care which team he plays for; we hate the other side. 

It’s April 28^th, just two days from May, and I know, without a doubt, it is Spring in Central Oregon.

Because it’s snowing.