Spring has arrived, though the weather might not always follow the calendar schedule we’d like it to, but knowing where we live, and how the weather is fickle, most of us are used to our relationship with Mother Nature and the circumstances we might, and often do, experience each year.

Even if/when the first robin sighting is a little late, or the first flower bud peeks out from the ground a bit tardy, I so look forward to Spring and all it brings to Sally and me every year.

First of all, about a month before the official start of the season of rebirth and hope, the return of baseball has already taken place, and we catch a few Spring Training games on the tube, getting us ready for the first scheduled game in our Season Ticket plan in The Land. That game will take place a little later this spring, as the team opens in Seattle in March, and doesn’t start their home season until April 7th against those same Mariners from the great Northwest.

At least we won’t be fighting what’s become a losing battle with cold and wind on the shores of Lake Erie, having us bundled up heavily in our winter digs, shivering in the March temperatures. Trust me, I know that sounds good, but it’s wishful thinking, as these past few years, we’ve been wearing those same winter wrappings well into May. When I say that spring is a season of hope, we usually hope we won’t freeze while watching baseball games, though we know that’s been an empty wish since I coached, Jon played, and we started our STH package in C-Town. If nothing else though, the arrival of baseball season lights a little fire in my heart which gets the blood flowing, and the excitement building for the next six, and hopefully more, months of fueling up the Tribemobile at the usual gas stations, living out of our suitcases, staying in our usual hotels, visiting our favorite food and drink establishments, seeing our adopted co-parishioners at St. Michael’s Church, parking in the usual ramp (and seeing the ramp supervisor who always greets us as he sees us pulling in), and sitting in our usual section at Progressive Field (new seats this season as we’re moving down a couple rows).

We’re also hoping whoever was seeding the clouds last season and bringing rain to Cleveland takes a break from that this season, as the Guardians played nine home doubleheaders at Progressive Field due to rainouts, many of those involving cancellations and rescheduling of games that were part of our package.

Spring also offers many occasions for us to celebrate. On March 22, Sally and I will celebrate our 43rd Wedding Anniversary, marking the day we pledged our love and commitment to each other in the midst of a huge snow storm which left many of our guests stranded here and there in three states. Fortunately, they were on route the day before the ceremony when they got stranded, and all were able to make it to the church on time. We love remembering that day, and how we both feel it made us start off our life as husband and wife a little stronger, helping prepare us to be able to face adversity early on in our marriage.

Eleven days after our anniversary (a week from tomorrow), we celebrate the anniversary of my bride’s entrance into this world. (Happy Birthday next weekend, Sally!) This year marks one of those high mark birthdays, one which I will keep a lid on the number. We’ll celebrate it in Tennessee with a visit to Chasy and Richard’s, with a quiet dinner, and little fanfare, as Sally prefers it to be that way. We don’t do much with gifts to each other, and this goes for most so-called gift giving days. This year we’ll gift each other our Cleveland getaways, our annual Jimmy Buffett concert this summer, a jaunt to Buffalo a couple weeks ago to hear Journey and Toto, both live on the same stage, hopefully a return to hear Trans-Siberian Orchestra on their next winter tour, as we did for about seven years pre-pandemic, along with visits to Tennessee and Virginia, and anything else we might want to experience this year.

Three weeks to the day after Sally’s special day, I get to be reminded how old I am, as calendar stops on the anniversary of my birth. We’ll celebrate it in C-Town, literally chilling at a Guards game. This one’s a high mark for me too, but unlike Sally’s day, mine marks a new chronological age decade, officially making me a septuagenarian this year. (Took me a while to pronounce that word correctly, so I try to use it whenever I can.)

Throw in Easter weekend, which sees the Guardians home this year, and where we may be eating Easter Dinner, as we did last year, in the Terrace Club at Progressive Field, following Easter Mass at St. Michaels, and it proves that spring does, indeed, bring a lot our way.

It’s too bad we lost an hour of Daylight Savings Time sleep earlier this month. At our new ages, we could surely used any extra hour, anytime, with all that we plan, lol.