The Pull of Spring and the Remaining Obstacles

I pause in my paper grading this morning and again stare at the row of books on my work table. They've been staring back at me for well over a year now, and, while I really want to get to them, other chores and duties stand in the way. The galleys are taking much more time than I had expected, and my students want their papers back, the papers I continue to assign even when I'm still behind in the grading. The birds are returning, and the frogs will awaken probably later today. In the past two days we've seen the first sandhill cranes, woodcocks, killdeers, robins, song sparrows, and my mystery bird: the one with the flutey one-two-three "purr-tee'-burr" call, always from the east field and always in the sun. I have papers to grade and galleys to proof and seven more weeks of classes, but the pull of spring is strong, and I want to grab my long-nosed shovel and transplant hickory and basswood saplings before it's too late in the season. And I want to get at those books I need to ingest for the 1843 book, where I need to be able to write about the naturalists and artists who preceded Audubon on the Upper Missouri and other Western rivers in the 1820s and '30s, and all about the fur trade and the early navigation on those rivers, and the natural history of bison and plains wildlife. But first I have to get the 1826 out the door by the end of this weekend, but the pull of spring is strong, and the need to watch the water flow downslope to the river, sending our snow to Lake Huron, is powerful, and knowing that in the ground all the roots of perennials are waking, and that Spring Beauties, Wood Anemones, Bloodroots, Wild Leeks, and Marsh Marigolds are coming is just too distracting. But as Alison says, "Do the work. Then we'll play."