okay - maybe not a real Ode - since I know there are some sort of rules about the construction of an actual ode, and the last couple of modelos have erased that portion of my memory. (and, no, I'm not a drunk -- really - lots of humans can't remember the rules to writing an ode either)
Today, I was reminded of the surest sign that spring has arrived. No, it wasn't the riot of color with the many azaleas, dogwoods, fruit trees, and spring bulbs blooming. It wasn't the sheen of sickly yellow from the pollen wafting down from the long leaf pines. It's not the return of brightly colored clothes or smaller swaths of cloth covering humans. Nor the warm sun radiating through the windows of my office.
No, the surest sign of spring is the renewed dedication to harnessing mother nature. We must carve out her earth, we must control her growth, we must determine the value of one plant over another. We sprinkle water on the ground when nature doesn't satisfy us with her rainfall. We push down her old trees to replace them with easy-to-care-for shrubs. We must tame her wildness. We must declare our dominance.
Yeah, I got stuck behind farm equipment for several miles today, which is when I wrote this post. (note to the cops -- I "wrote" it in my head -- I was not actually typing and driving - that would be silly, and dangerous.)