Waiting on Warm Weather

I always look forward to Spring, partly because I enjoy my gardening, watching some baseball, and being able to take walks on the trails around here, and partly because my granddad taught me to see the season the way he did. He used to say winter was something you survived rather than enjoyed, and the older I get, the more I understand what he meant. He would sit by his window, watching for the first trees to bud, and remind me that the calendar might claim spring had arrived, but the mountains had their own schedule. According to him, winter never leaves quietly. Instead, it returns in a series of five more little winters that test your patience before the real warmth finally settles in.

The first of these “little winters” is Redbud Winter, which he said usually shows up in late March when the redbuds and apple trees begin to bloom. He always warned me not to trust the first warm spell because Redbud Winter will bring a sharp frost or two that can undo a gardener’s early optimism. After that comes Dogwood Winter, arriving in early April when the dogwoods turn white across the hills. He would point to the blossoms and say they were beautiful, but they were also a warning that another cold snap was on the way.

About two weeks later comes Locust Winter, a brief return of cold that he claimed would chill you straight through your coat. He talked about it like an old neighbor who never stayed long but always showed up uninvited. The fourth is Blackberry Winter, the one he spoke of with the most respect. It usually lands around May 10th, which has led to the term “10th of May Cold Spell” in these parts, and he insisted nobody should plant their vegetables before it passed. He said the blackberry brambles knew more about the weather than any forecaster, and when they bloomed, you could count on one last real punch of cold.

The final little winter arrives just before Memorial Day and is known as Long John Britches Winter. My granddad said the name came from the long underwear he had to wear during that last bit of chilly weather. It was the final time anyone needed them before summer truly took hold. He would laugh and say that once Long John Britches Winter passed, you could finally pack away the heavy clothes and trust that the warm season had arrived for good.

I still think of him every spring when the weather turns unpredictable. I can still hear his stories in his voice. I can still see him rocking in his chair while staring out the window and sharing his years of wisdom with his young, redheaded grandson.

And I remember his words as I suffer through those five little winters waiting on warm weather to get here and the memories of water gun fights, Slush Puppies, and ice cream trucks that come with it. It all adds up to yet another thing I miss about being a kid.