#1 Sure Sign of Spring

What is the one sure-fire, never-miss, bonafide sign that spring is on its way to Chicagoland? No, it’s not the first crocus elbowing its way up through the earth. Nor is it the robin’s jubilant wake-up call.

It’s the arrival of the big trucks!

Like clockwork they make their appearance shortly before spring arrives. First, in mid-February, we hear the approaching rumble of the village tree-pruning squads in their bucket trucks…

Nary a dead nor errant branch escapes their notice. I’m always happy to see the trees get a good shaping-up, but they look conspicuously bare at the moment—like a young boy with a too-short haircut, his newly exposed ears and forehead gleaming against tanned skin. But they’ll fill in nicely again soon.

Occasionally a whole tree has to go and that’s sad. This one used to stand just across the cul de sac from our house. The trunk was half hollow from some ailment or other. We’ll miss its shade this summer.

After the bucket-truck brigade come the road repair crews. The winter snowplowing has left its mark on our streets, and there are potholes everywhere. I missed my chance to get a photo of these trucks today—but that’s not what you came to a garden blog for anyway, is it? How about this instead:

This intriguing live sculpture graces the entrance to a truck company near here. In summer it’s surrounded by a pretty patch of annuals. (My apologies for lopping off the “T”—I left my glasses in the car when I jumped out to snag this shot. Time for a large-print camera…)

Not exactly an idea I’d choose to replicate in my own front yard, but it makes me smile every time I pass. I’d love to get the story on it—Whose idea was it? Who maintains it so perfectly? But I can’t quite bring myself to wander into a truck yard full of burly men and inquire about their topiary and posies. I’m hoping to catch the pruner in action some day and maybe mosey over for a chat.

So that’s that. The big trucks have arrived, and spring can’t be far behind. Patience, my friend!

You Say It’s Your Birthday? It’s My Birthday Too, Yeah!

Today is my birthday. And other than a nice breakfast with my mother-in-law this morning, it’s been pretty uneventful so far. That’s the problem with having a birthday so close to the holidays. Everybody’s had enough partying for a while.

But last year? That was a very different story…

First, you have to understand one thing about me. I. Love. The Beatles. It’s gotten progressively worse with age. Maybe it’s a nostalgia thing, a longing for my youth. All I know for sure is that their music makes me happy.

A couple years ago I decided to combine that passion with my other favorite pastime: gardening, of course. I began noticing how many Beatles lyrics mentioned gardening, or flowers, or sunshine. I decided to incorporate some of those lines into my flowerbeds. Little did I know that those tunes would soon come to life right in my very own back yard.

Last year was my *cough* fiftieth *cough* birthday, so the Suburban Spouse, along with the Suburban Sprouts (our then-seventh-grade son and fourth-grade daughter) conspired to throw one spectacular surprise party for me.

One Friday in September (four months early—the best way to keep a surprise!), I came home from work to find a couple big trucks unloading in our driveway.

Out came band equipment…

inflatable “moon walks” for the kids…

a food tent…

and even some portable “Suburban Sanitation” units. (The Spouse thinks of everything, bless his generous little heart.)

Soon, about 2-300 of our closest friends and neighbors showed up for the main event: a concert by American English, my favorite Beatles tribute band! Our house sits on a little bit of a hill above the field behind us, so our patio made a great stage.

They played a couple hours’ worth of my favorite songs, before a 10-minute rain shower sent everyone running for home. (I was sort of thankful for that. I had visions of happy partiers keeping the neighbors—okay, me—up till all hours.)

Then, “Paul McCartney” came inside and played a brief private concert for the few of us who remained. He even made our sadly-out-of-tune piano sound good!

It was a beautiful evening. So many friends pitched in to help with set-up and food preparation. Some drove a good distance to be there. Many brought very nice gifts (mostly Beatles or garden-related—bonus!). My friend Megan had a special “watering can” cake made for me!

It was a birthday I’ll never forget. And that’s a good thing, because it’s not likely to happen again any time soon.

Oh, well. “Ob-la-di, ob-la-da. Life Goes On…”