Spring is well and truly upon us. As I walked home tonight I heard the twittering of nesting birds and the buzzing of insects. All around me nature was preparing for the oncoming Summer and as I walked I thought "can't you guys just shut up?". Spring must be the noisiest season in the year. It's as if every living thing has decided to celebrate the death of Winter by screaming at the top of their voices. Ok, I get it. It's Spring and you're happy to have survived another season but for god's sake give it a rest.
No doubt soon the nighttime air will be alive with the droning of mosquitoes, I sometimes wonder how I get to sleep at all in the Summer months. Honestly what is all the big fuss with Spring? It really is a nothing of a season, not hot enough to be Summer and too warm for Winter. The only thing Spring really signifies is that I'm going to be dragging the doona on and off my bed as the nights fluctuate between freezing cold and boiling hot.
It isn't just animals either, plants too have suddenly taken more of an interest in proceedings although they are mercifully more quiet about it. The tree outside my window is now trying to pick up all of the leaves it carelessly tossed away last Autumn. Daffodil day, another harbinger of Spring has come and gone. For those who don't know, daffodil day is when we take advantage of the flowering of daffodils to rip them all out of the ground to adorn our dwellings and places of employment. Apparently this is done to aid cancer although as far as I am aware cancer is getting on pretty well without our help. Daffodils must hate Spring; all year they sit quietly in the ground sucking up nutrients and minding their own business. Spring comes by and they risk flowering in a desperate attempt to propagate the species only to have some bunch of disease crazed freaks come along and commit mass floracide.
I am organising a petition to ban Spring, I have the signatures of a million daffodils already and I know the carnations are down. If our demands aren't met we will have a million plant march on parliament house. If the politicians still prove resistant it will be time for direct action. I can't say much here but our numbers are growing and we have started setting up camps to indoctrinate new recruits. What are we doing there? Let me put it this way Day of the Triffids is a training video. My mossy friends and I will not be denied, before we are finished Spring will be a bitter but distant memory.
Once Spring has been banned and people who celebrate May Day are languishing in reeducation camps we will redefine the seasons along the Goldilocks principal. Summer will become Too Hot, Winter will become Too Cold and Autumn will be Just Right. Spring will be "The Season that dare not speak its name". During this period there will be a ninety day period of mourning to commemorate all the plants that fell for the cause. There will be a ritual destroying of lawn mowers and anyone who even mentions cancer will be burnt at the steak. No, that's not a misspelling, rather than sacrifice a tree victims will be strapped to a cow and set on fire. Admission to the executions will be free but you'll have to bring your own barbecue sauce. Cows are going to really hate this time of year. No doubt they will be the centre of an underground Spring revivalist campaign but my shock troops are ready. I have battalions of suicide pollinators on standby. We will show no mercy to revisionists.
I would like to apologise for the preceding blog entry. On closer examination I have discovered that my brain is channelling old Captain Kremmen episodes. Please enjoy Spring and tell the cows I said sorry.
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