I'm not much of an entrepreneur myself, but those I know contend one of the key components of any successful enterprise is that you should under-promise and over-deliver.
If that's all there is to it (that and inventing cellphones or discovering oil in your backyard), I feel compelled to say spring has, well, gotten this thing bass-ackwards. And may owe me a refund.
I know that might sound a little harsh, considering the high regard in which spring is typically held, the generally glowing reviews it's received and its many Twitter followers (which, apparently is the true indication of value in our current society). But I'm beginning to believe that, like roller coasters and sushi, there's a lot more sizzle than steak here. Except, of course, with regard to the sushi, where there's no sizzle at all, which may be the problem. But I digress ...
I was just reading the brochure that came with my recently acquired spring (a document that exists only in my fevered imagination, so you can forget all about those class-action lawsuit ideas), and I think there are some gross exaggerations, discrepancies and downright lily-gilding that need to be pointed out.
For instance, spring in the Ozarks heralds a return to moderate, pleasant days much anticipated by those ready to be rid of the gloom and harsh temperatures of winter.
Most of the time around here, weather skews somewhere between generally pretty good, all things considered, and a fairly minor annoyance that will change quickly enough. Spring, on the other hand, tries to kill you.
Tornados. Floods. Golf ball-sized chunks of ice hurtling from the heavens, intent on making the hood of your car look like it needs Proactiv. Straight-line winds (which, I guess, are different from tornadoes in that they don't go round and round before blowing down your fence and depositing your trampoline in the neighbor's yard.). The occasional "where did that come from?" snow storm. Temperatures freezing in the morning, baking at noon and back to freezing in the evening. Pea-soup fog. Lightning storms.
And that was April. Want to see what May has to offer? And you want to have it tracked, minute by minute, in place of any show you might happen to be watching? We've got you covered.
Key question: Do we need to dig a storm shelter or start cloud-seeding with Prozac, because Mother Nature has gone all Lizzie Borden on us.
By "us," the brochure apparently meant us, and snakes, suddenly un-hibernating bears, and coyotes, and every single skunk in the world, of which there can't be that many left, since it appears all of them wandered out in front of cars to be hit and give up the ghost. And something else that lingers for miles.
And if that's not enough, there's my second least-favorite thing after snakes -- ticks. Did you know the American Dog Tick secretes a poison that paralyzes dogs? Did you know there are actually people in the world so interested in ticks they'll get close enough to them to notice the sort of differences that enable them to determine varieties like the American Dog Tick?
If I were studying ticks, the only two questions I'd be asking are "So just how big a sledgehammer does it take to smash this kind?" and "How exactly how many BTU's will a flamethrower have to put off to incinerate that creepy little ...?"
I'm certainly all for embracing nature. I'd just like it a lot more if, as a result of that embrace, I didn't wind up with Lyme disease or Rocky Mountain Spotted Tick Fever.
Up here, it's important to remember April showers bring May flowers.
Or at least they will after you plant them. And fertilize. And dust and rake and turn and feed and water and generally spend more time cultivating them than Madonna spent cultivating that British accent.
That's after you have to get the garden tools, only to remember you either a) broke them or b) lent them out, and you can't remember which. And, frankly, don't even care.
But if you do get the flowers planted, they'll be beautiful. Until the hail turns them into mulch. Surprise.
And, of course, one of the traditions of the season here in the Ozarks is that harbinger of things to come, the annual Razorback spring game.
Right. Because six months of football isn't enough. Well, actually, that's true.
So, OK, that's one for spring...
Commentary on 04/24/2015