The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-03-15
SIGNS OF SPRING.

There are many signs of spring which are
entirely omitted from our calendars, and are
never referred to in the representations of
our weather-prophets as having any marked
significance, but which, nevertheless, bear a
weighty and a serious brow to the eye trained
in domestic details and the mind schooled in
the hidden meanings of the commonplace
Signs and tokens of waning winter are visi-
BILE indoors to the nimble mind of the
housekeeper long before outdoor ma
ture has shown the faintest inten-
ton of shaking off slumber from
her eyelids and weaving for the earth the
promised robe of green. Long, long before
the jovial robin carols in some yet bare and
frosted tree, or the venturesome tulip pokes
forth his enterprising stalks in some shaded
corner of the yard the domestic interpreta
ton of household symbols has been made and
an unerring hand has written on the wall that
spring is on the way. The most of these
tokens are homely, but the tale they tell is
not on that account to be disregarded. The
coal is getting low, the ash pile looms astonsh-
ingly high; it is almost spring. The vegeta-
bles in the cellar have almost reached the bot
toms of the bins, the store of mince-
meat has long since vanished down
red-lane; spring is on the way. The appetite
for smoking buckwheat cakes is waning, and
preserves linger-a drug in the market. But
ter costs as if it were made of gold-dust, and
hens decline to keep eggs at reasonable prices.
Clothes that were expected to last through the
winter show visible tokens of approaching dis
solution, and the ragged elbow is eloquent
that spring is almost here. The much-be-
darned stockings and the patched fannels
which swing on the clothes-line publish to all
the world the tidings of great joy; they have
borne the burden and the cold of winter, and
expect soon to retire to a long and welcome
rest in the gbag The apple-peddler
makes day hideous with his incompre-
hensible shrieks and groans; the orange-man
hawks his vernal falsehood past the door,
''All nice, sweet oranges, twenty-five cents a
dozen" and the confding housewife purchases,
just as she did last year, and her husband
cries, "Sold again" just as he did last year,
and the children manage to dispose of the
oranges, with about quarter of a pound of
sugar to each orange just as they did last
year The scissors grinder comes forth from
his winter lair and jingles his cracked bell,
"out of tune and harsh" up and down the
street The still confiding housewife always
hopes it's not the same man who spoiled her
knives last fall : at least he always
says he isn't - so she turns her precious
cutlery over to his eager hands, and he ruins
all its edges, and pockets all the money, and
goes iangGng off down the street, just as he
did last year. The rag-man appears on the
scene just as neat and acknowledging as
ever and with the same noble disregard for
dishonest bargains. All these homely tokens
tell that spring is on the way. Wemay doubt
and be 10th to accept them, but the message
is the same, whatever be its herald. Little by
little, syllable by syllable nature indoors and
out, is spelling it right before our eyes, is
whispering it to, perhaps, needless ears but
some morning, when we least expect it, the
story is finished. We open the window and "a
purer ether, diviner air." rushes in upon
us. The buds of the trees seem to have
swollen in the night; "a liveler emerald
wrinkles in the grass" lordly robin stalks
upon the gravel walk; vivid fash of blue
bird dazzles our wondering eyes; the longex-
pected guest has arrived like thief in the
night the ever-new miracle, which is yet as
old as the everlasting hills has been accom-
plished while we slept. 'Lo, the winter is
past, the rain is over and gone" Spring has
come!