THE REASSURANCE OF SPRING By Harriet Sigerman

Finding renewal among our towns’ blossoms

This mix of spring blooms gives cheer on a walk in South Orange.

My husband and I moved to Maplewood in 1997 when we bought our first house. We had been renting an apartment in Westfield but couldn’t afford purchase prices there. We also loved the diversity and sense of community that Maplewood offered. In our quest to downsize our real estate taxes and household expenses, we’re now in our third house.

Other changes have also taken place over the years – new jobs, the adoption of our daughter, serious illness and the usual joys and sorrows of life. But each house has come with wonderful neighbors and yards adorned with trees and bushes where we could watch the seasons change. Yet even in the bucolic bubble of Maplewood and South Orange, global warming has brought unpredictable changes to our seasons.

Fritillaria meleagris are reliable spring perennials.

For those who love snowy winter evenings at home in front of a crackling fire or landscapes heaped with snow for skiing or sledding, there are no longer guarantees that we’ll get adequate snowfall. Drought has become a greater scourge during summer, and the prospect of brilliant fall color is more unpredictable because of too much rain or wind or unusually warm autumn temperatures.

But one thing is certain: the coming of spring, a time of renewal for the earth and for our winter-weary spirits. First, clusters of perky crocuses, then sunny yellow forsythia followed by angel-like magnolia blossoms – admittedly a little late this spring – opening their soft pink-and-white petals in greeting to the season. Then candy-colored tulips and the rest of the parade of glorious spring blooms.

As I walk around my neighborhood I can’t get enough of the luscious pink and white blossoms cascading from trees, especially against the backdrop of a brilliant blue midday sky. I chart the progress of first buds and then blooms on various plants and bushes and I have never met a peony that I could pass up sniffing. I don’t know the names of most plants and trees, but I still revel in the fragrance and pastel shades of their flowers.

During spring, our neighborhoods are garbed in a palette of soft colors such as pink, pale fuchsia and violet. These were the colors that my mother wore. She passed away many years ago on a beautiful spring day, so I feel a certain bittersweet tug of the heart when I walk through the gardens of Maplewood and South Orange – a melancholy reminder of her passing but also a sweet recollection of how she looked and dressed.

I find that the coming of spring also enhances the charm and unique features of the houses and older public buildings that grace our two towns. A weeping cherry tree with a veil of light pink blossoms in front of the Woodland, formerly the home of the Woman’s Club of Maplewood, highlights the palladium window on the second floor and draws a viewer’s eye to the ornate cupola above with its ice blue ceiling. Flower boxes bursting with rainbow blooms on houses around Maplewood and South Orange are nature’s jewels adorning the windows. Wraparound porches in both towns magically become botanical gardens filled with potted flowers of assorted heights and colors.

As I gaze at gardens on my walks in my neighborhood, I notice architectural features on houses that I had never paid attention to before – a stained-glass window, a brick archway connected to the house, an ornate motif on the front door or outer walls. Springtime makes me more aware and appreciative of the architectural treasures of both our towns. I hope that those treasures will always be preserved.

For me, spring also provides ballast in a world that has become increasingly fraught with conflict, uncertainty and sorrow. It is a reassurance that there is still beauty and stability in our lives no matter what uncertainties loom in our national and global community. I might feel distraught after reading or listening to the news, but when I walk outside and hear a symphony of birdsong or bury my face in a cloud of lilacs, which bloom reliably year after year, I am reassured that there is a natural order and beauty that will always endure beyond the fractious, ever-changing affairs of the world – though of course we all have to take steps to protect that natural order.

I’m looking forward to leisurely days at the Maplewood pool this summer and then to hayrides and jaunts through pumpkin patches in the fall, and even a possible snowstorm or two in winter (my least favorite season). But come July and August, when the grass and the trees lose their bright green vitality and start to look worn and haggard, I’ll be counting the months until the next springtime renewal of earth and spirit.

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Harriet Sigerman, a freelance writer and editor, loves spending time in public gardens and watching her own flowers grow