I heard something on the way home from work Monday evening. It was something I haven't heard in quite some time. Leaves. The wind was blowing and I could hear the rustle of leaves.
That's Michigan, folks. Some of us get excited about these things. We get excited about welcoming leaves back to the trees after their hasty departure last November. They're not all back, but we're off to a good start. Our big oaks, our maples, our shaggy-bark hickories-- these big cohabitants of the Great Lakes State are the sentinels of the seasons. And to hear the wind blowing through their leaves now is the prelude to the warm months ahead.
These are the months of fields filled with corn and beans and wheat. These are the months of canoe trips on the hundreds of streams, rivers, and lakes. These are the months of round after round on the manicured grounds of our many golf courses. These are the months of campouts and cookouts, bon fires and bike rides, classic cars and baseball. These are the months where the air fills with the fragrance of barbecue and new mown lawn, the sounds of children out playing right up 'til bedtime. These are the months such a long time in coming-- the very same months that seem to pass all too quickly.
The change of seasons here in Michigan is almost always introduced by wind, the wind blowing open and close the curtain on the stage of climate. This next act should be great. The curtain is starting to open and it's just a few weeks away.
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