Posted in The Writer's Life

SPRINGTIME … When a Young Man’s Fancy (Part I)

     I’m sitting here in my office chair, at my office desk, my hands cupped to the back of my head, elbows up and to the side, staring out the glass office door where the stenciled letters spelling AUTO, HOME, BUSINESS & LIFE INSURANCE are backwards to me so the passersby on the sidewalk heading down to the 7-11 can properly read it and perhaps come in and spoil my reverie while I am thinking, “Well … another springtime is here.”

     I’m also imagining how someone, staring at me from one of the apartment windows in the complex across Columbus butterfly manStreet, might wonder at my hands so placed behind my head, my elbows high and out, my well-toned lats filling that part of my Hawaiian shirt and at the glazed look in my eyes, whether I might, instead, be a huge Monarch butterfly fresh-slithered from my chrysalis, which he can’t see, owing to the distance and also the fact that my former springtime home lies like a discarded garment at my feet, hidden behind my big, impersonal insurance desk.

     Oh, yes it is most definitely spring.

     My imagination flutters me about the room, dipping and rising and soaring and fluttering, and the man in the apartment has now vacated his window falsely believing he had not been staring at a butterfly at all, but an old insurance man sitting in his chair behind his desk.

*     *     *

     I’ve experienced probably sixty springtimes, nearly all of which I might remember the magic of, if I really put my mind to it.  Even if I were to try to recapture the memory of the springtimes earlier than that, it would be irrelevant.  Why?  Because you don’t need springtime when all of childhood—assuming it is not meddled with—is tender and fresh.  All life is magic, or should be, to the pre-teen child.

     My reality is that I’m 73 years old.  But, then again, no one who’s reading this is likely to be cavorting around in the tender, fresh wonder of childhood, either.

     So, I’m thinking we all need our springtimes.  Am I right? What does springtime conjure up in your mind? Spring cleaning?  Or, Easter?springtime wedding  And, isn’t springtime the most popular season to marry?  How about planting time?  And, dare we omit nestlings chirping in the trees, or, butterflies flitting from flower to flower?  What have I forgotten?

     One doesn’t have to go too far to find the common thread running through all these?  Springtime is a time of new beginnings.

     At the risk of belaboring the obvious with the above statement, I’d like to take it a step further and suggest that the first day of spring should be the true New Year’s Day.  Sure, a few things would have to be tweaked, but I’d wager that once done, the rational mind of man would have a closer association with the truth of new beginnings that reside in man’s soulAnd, because of that … I’d wager another thing: our New Year’s resolutions would have a far better chance of succeeding because our souls are already geared toward change, improvement, betterment.

     We’d have to do something about the college bowl games.  I’ll put my people on it.

*     *     *

     How do the seasons play out in our creative life?  As a writer I wonder, is it just me, or do the fresh sprouts nudging the soil of our creative minds seem more abundant now?  Notwithstanding, we may be still pregnant with undelivered projects of springs and summers past that we’ve been pushing through one more exhausting winter of fitful contractions.

     No one said creative project-bearing would be easy!

     And, now, as if to confound us, these new ideas are germinating in our minds with surprising ease and are as fresh as a peach-blossom-wafted breeze.  With that tingling in our nostrils who could be blamed for wanting to take a break from all the pushing and grunting?

     (Can I hear some of you complaining that the old coot is waxing awfully poetic?  Well, you young whippersnappers, springtime’s the reason.  Blame it on springtime!)

     Complaints aside, though, are we beginning to see there just might be a downside to springtime for the creative mind I hope you’ll explore that with me next time.monarch butterflies

     Until then … be kind to old men and young butterflies.

 Pssst!  You made it this far so why not bounce clear to the top of the right-hand side bar and subscribe to my FREE newsletter?  Until I get other people to voluntarily rave about it, I’m gonna have to be the first one you’ll read as saying: “Jay’s newsletter’s a hoot!” and “Chock-full of writing tips, it’s information rich, while entertaining and funny!” and “You’re gonna wanna jump aboard before Jay discovers how great it truly is and starts charging a huge subscription fee!”



My Twitter account identifies me as “a writer, a salesman, an optimist, a dreamer,” and adds: “may the four always cohabit and produce wondrous progeny.” Each of the first two identifies a blood-and-bone human being, living in the real world who works very hard at being honest and caring—but, who is still evolving in these areas. The last two (“optimist” and “dreamer”) are foundational qualities in my life. They keep a fire crackling under me that hopefully fuels the writer … and also the salesman, whose hat each of us is hard-wired to wear. Sandwiched somewhere between writing and selling, I attended college and even tried my hand at selling high school kids on why they should love learning and reading and writing. That was a brief stint. Whether teaching failed me or I it, I don’t know. You’d have to ask the kids—though many might be doddering by now, and some dead. Still, experientially, it is a part of me. I am married, living with my dog, Sirius, in Bakersfield, California, and separately from my wife.

25 thoughts on “SPRINGTIME … When a Young Man’s Fancy (Part I)

  1. Jay: I don’t read many blogs, but yours has been engaging (so far!).

    On Springtime: I met the most memorable little black lady the other day. She was deep into her 80s (and didn’t weigh much more than that). She could hardly hear a word, but she could talk.

    “Have you ever seen such a cold April?” she started our conversation. “I’ve never seen it so cold in April. And I’ve seen a lot of Aprils!”

    I told my sons that I’ll never admit my age again. Suffice it to say I’ve seen a lot of Aprils.

    (The delightful little lady went on to reminisce and tell me of all the enchanted places she used to go in Kansas City. “We couldn’t eat in them,” she said. “But we could buy things and oh, it was wonderful.”)

    I went away enriched by the chance encounter and ashamed of who we were when good people couldn’t eat with us, but could spend their money.

    Write on, Jay. –Marty McCarty

    Ah! Plause! productions 700 Ward Parkway Kansas City, MO 64112

    1. Oh, Marty, what a delightful comment to begin the responses to my post. Your observations are spot on as well as what you leave the reader to take away from them. Thank you for stopping by. I hope my blog is one you’ll stop by to visit often and leave your thought-print on, as you did here.

    1. James, you’d have a hard time convincing me of that. I’ve read your blogs and sampled your book. You flit and flutter along with the best of them. Thanks for coming back, my friend.

  2. Hi Jay,
    Great post, you are most definitely right, we do need our spring times.
    I’m still waiting(working towards) for my late spring/summer seasons.
    Thanks again for the follow on Twitter.
    Have a great weekend. 🙂

    1. I hate it when my first reply to a comment, for some reason, doesn’t take. What often happens is I try to remember what I said the first time, write it out and in a couple of days the original shows along with my TWO answers. But, I do want to thank you for stopping by, Phil. Always great to see a new face. Please come back and visit some more.


    2. I’m sorry, Phil. I could have sworn I answered this, but I don’t see an answer. I want to thank you for stopping by and for your comment. I’ll check out your website.

  3. I’m weird. I actually get depressed in spring. I prefer to hibernate. A good reason to write. Not have to get out and tend to gardens, that stuff. Probably why I don’t have a vey green thumb:) thanks for finding me via twitter:)

    1. Well, you sure blow my poetic impact, LOL. That is interesting, though. I don’t think I’ve heard anyone getting depressed during springtime. Maybe you should get a gardener or let your garden go au natural. Thanks, Sandra for your comment. Please come back for a visit, Okay?

    1. Thank you, JB, for stopping by for a visit. Whoa! And thanks for the compliment! You can whisper those sweet somethings in my ear any day! That enough exclamation points for you? Really, I appreciate you, my friend.

      1. Jay,
        Writers share the same writers’ blood. Thoughts we can’t contain into our lit minds. We never close our floodgates. We share. Namaste
        Jb villegas

  4. Here in Australia our seasons are ‘upside down’ to the rest of the world. We are in autumn. Summer can be depressing with the HEAT… but we plod through all seasons. Hard to think in the heat though. Thanks for a thought-provoking post – Susan

    1. Now, see, I didn’t think of that. More the truth is that I didn’t know that about the seasons “down under”. So, springtime may be universal as a season of rebirth and renewal, but we can’t all sit around and glow about it on May 2nd. Next you’ll be telling me it’s not even May 2nd in Australia, but October … and you have your own calendar! LOL, thanks, Susan for helping me crank my mind up. And, thank you, dear, for dropping by. I hope it’s a regular occurrence. G’day. (Always wanted to say that.)

      1. Hi Jay.. it’s actually May 3rd here. You are probably sleeping if you are in UK (8 hours behind) or Us… anything from 13 – 16 hours behind, depending on time zone. However we are in May… Nice to be here… trouble is I should be writing for one of my two blogs… or nit-picking the manuscript of my second book. Better go. G’dday back. (In spite of the red line Good day abbreviated is g’dday – missing out the oo’s. LOL thanks for the smile before working. 🙂

  5. Love this…”My imagination flutters me about the room, dipping and rising and soaring and fluttering” ♥

    1. Oh, my, thank you so much for your compliment. And, especially, thanks for stopping by. I’m so glad you liked my post. The second part of it should be coming out in about a week. Hope to see you here for that as well.

    2. Jay, Sent a hard copy of my novel. You may receive it in few days. Neophyte I am. Your critique is much needed by a new swimmer in the unforgiving sea  of literature.–jb


  6. Great blog post! I think Spring lends itself to waxing poetic because we weren’t meant to sit at a desk banging out prose this time of year. I like to take the doors off my Jeep, drop the top, and find some place near the river where I can put my feet up and watch the world go by. Later, after I’ve collected enough memories, enough “moments”, and it’s too dark to do anything else I’ll put it down in words. Writing is a journey, not a destination- at least that’s what I tell my friends when they want to read my (unfinished) novel. I say destination, you say procrastination…….

    1. I’m going to guess that Tyndall is your first name, H your middle initial and Wright your last name. And, I don’t know why I’m telling you that. Either I’m right and you’ll say so what, or wrong and you’ll say so why? Any way, possibly Tyndall, thanks for your kindness. I appreciate your stopping by and giving me details on how one more person lets spring work through him. Come back. In about a week I should have the second part of it done.

  7. I am always transported back to childhood by the smell of burgers grilling, ranch dressing on a simple fresh salad, and fresh-cut grass. (I know, I know, that one’s the most cliche yet!) Here in Montana we’re already trying our bathing suits on and exposing our pale skin to the first few seventy-five degree days.Spring is nostalgia AND new loves, what a great combination!! Thanks for the follow on twitter and for directing me to your lovely writing.

    1. Nothing cliche about your memories. They sound delightful and innocent. Thank you for sharing them with me and the other readers! I’m thrilled you stopped by and hope you catch my other posts, particularly part two of Springtime.

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