What ee called in just spring I call “meltdown.” His was a celebration for the balloonman, who “whistled far and wee,” while mine is lamenting the possible end of winter. The frog will wake up and notice that his limbs are a little stiff like the balloon man who is first lame and then goat-footed. The fish will become hungry and notice that there are not yet insects or vegetation to feed upon. The ice will disappear in the pond, never to be seen again. My heroic neighbor, an airplane gunner in WWII, will rise up from his easy chair to mow the leaves. Spring is not all that it is made up to be, but in a pinch, I'll take it.