Spring Chronicle
We all use calendars that more often than not omit some important and joyous events concerning people, regardless of their age, social status, or education, and which are thus more important than official holidays. Our media seem to have forgotten that man doesn’t live by politics and ads alone. How else can one explain the fact that such a wonderful cosmic phenomenon as the return, at long last, of the summer sun to Ukraine has not been duly reflected in the media? And this, considering that the life of society is constantly and radically changing for the better, the cold weather, ice-covered ground, and piercing winds having finally retreated. We are no longer depressed by short days, long dark nights, and the gray surroundings. Owing to this complete lack of information, we might have failed to notice all this.
Spring is quickly gaining momentum. While the last bluish-white blocks of ice are floating down the Dnipro, the trees on the riverbanks are showing more buds in the morning and the first sticky leaves in the evening. Kyiv’s famous Lake Verbne was icebound in a rather thick (30-40 cm) layer of ice throughout the winter until the beginning of April. The ice was solid, like in Antarctica, and perfect for ice fishermen and pedestrians. Then it vanished literally overnight (April 5-6). Those in the know say it broke at the edges and sank to the bottom. Anyway, the next morning the lake was clear of ice, and wild ducks were solemnly riding the small, merry waves (now that’s what I call information). Nature changes its setting quickly, noiselessly, and effectively, like in a good drama company. Polar bear swimmers are the only ones displeased by the change, having lost the ice-hole in which they “basked” throughout the winter.
This year the apricot and cherry trees blossomed later than the magnolia, which is flaming white in both botanical gardens, Monastyrsky Park, and several other cozy spots in Kyiv. Sparkling white magnolias and tender pink and violet rhododendrons look like regally dressed envoys from other countries, even other worlds. People are irresistibly attracted by their beauty, and come to feast their eyes and distract themselves from daily worries and dull routine, like the Japanese, for whom the Cherry Blossom Festival has long become a national holiday — an occasion celebrated in a quiet, even somewhat sad fashion. They know that this beauty is fleeting and its luxuriant burgeoning hides the tragedy of demise.
But in dying this way, nature promises even richer blossoms next year. Man, in contrast, experiences only one spring season in his lifetime. Even oriental philosophers, who confirm the constancy of life cycles, offer no consolation; if one cannot remember the previous cycles, how can one believe that there will be other “springtimes”? We don’t even clearly remember our past; it’s like a long ago dream that fades with the passing years. In other words, one must learn to enjoy the ephemeral present and dreams of a happier future. Our present is now filled with the riches and carefree promises of spring, the fragrance of blossoming orchards, exotic flowers, and heady air. So let us enjoy yet another fleeting spring, joyous and sad at the same time, which makes this time of year even more charming and refined, like Lina Kostenko’s verse.
Yet how do we experience this rich annual gift of fate, which is an ideal example of justice because it is bestowed on one and all at the same time, in full measure and freely? Regrettably, as we all know, we often ignore it and fail to tear ourselves away from our daily chores to admire the inimitable spectacle staged by nature.
Meanwhile, nature is meticulously performing its duties. The groves on the islands and banks of the Dnipro, parks, and botanical gardens are brimming with the invisible force of life, its heady and sweet juices. People with good hearing can hear the air vibrate and ring with this life-giving strength. Everything around us changes amazingly every day and even every hour. Over the past few days the ground in the botanical gardens has turned into a giant green carpet richly and whimsically decorated with primroses, buttercups, periwinkles, and especially violets that are especially numerous this year. Here and there forsythias shine their golden flowers on light brown branches (there are several small bushes under The Day’s windows). The “November magnolia” will blossom soon: its bare twigs have already sprouted a number of large white and pink buds. The Kyiv chestnuts have shown their first leaves and buds of future blossoms. There is a smell of earth and last year’s foliage, marking the end of the yearly cycle. Everywhere the stubborn and slim arrows of budding plants pierce this layer.
The Botanical Garden’s famous lilacs have just awakened and produced tiny leaves, obviously concentrating on duly performing the enigmatic metamorphosis, transforming almost shapeless buds into large heavy clusters of fragrant and mysteriously charming flowers in dozens of shades of purple and white flowers, and an equal number of fragrances. Before long, crowds of Kyivans and other visitors will come here to breathe in their aroma and delight in the background: the ancient Vydubychi Monastery below, beyond it the great river and vast expanses on the Left Bank. Surrounded by such perfect beauty, one’s heart aches with the realization of how much time and energy one spends on all kinds of trifles and the awareness that one should live in a totally different way.
