The Buzz of Spring

He sat down in the garden on a rickety green stool in front of the open cellar door, poured himself a glass of Irsai Olivér, and observed the lively hum of spring. His thoughts wandered to the large cherry tree standing alone on the distant property opposite, which seemed to be pollinated by millions of bees.

In his own garden, the sour cherry and the small Williams pear tree were in full bloom. Beneath them, a field of red dead-nettle provided nectar, lightly spiced with the pollen of a few carefree dandelions. The chickweed had already faded, yellowing beneath the vines, but the Persian speedwell bloomed in azure blue. Beneath the rows of vines, tulips were beginning to open their red petals, while scattered under the hazel bush, a few greater celandines and groundsels displayed their inviting yellow flowers, calling in the spring.

Everything was buzzing with life. For now, the garden was mostly visited by ground bees, and as he observed, a slender beetle with chitinous wings landed on the back of his left hand.
"Are you a click beetle?" Steve asked, and to make sure, he gently pressed his right index finger onto its back, which indeed produced the characteristic snapping sensation beneath the small black creature.
"You certainly are!"

So many flowers, so much buzzing – the whole garden was alive! The onions were a vibrant green, the peas had emerged in neat rows, and in one corner bed, wheat had sprouted out of curiosity, already nearly thirty centimetres tall. It had grown from chicken feed scattered in rows, simply to observe its development. A slight powdery mildew had appeared on it, and there was already something suitable to treat it with, but the cyclone had brought windy days, so spraying would have to wait, perhaps until the following evening.

The pruning in the vineyard was not yet finished, so the holidays were spent working, and one afternoon he even felt like mowing the lawn. Still, this was far better than manoeuvring a forklift in a crowded supermarket among the "dear customers". Of course, there were plenty of kind and polite ones, but as the holiday approached, there seemed to be a striking number of consumerist idiots. There is no remedy for them, but the springtime beauty of nature and solitude is a true cure for the nerve-wracking astonishment they provoke.

The contrast between the life-affirming hum of nature and the mindless consumption and destruction created by man is astonishing. How wonderful it is to observe life in the garden, and how dreadful what is happening in the world by comparison. "Be fruitful and multiply," says Scripture somewhere, something like that – and compared to that, what are we doing here? And how is it possible that self-destructive barbarism is strengthening on a global scale within so-called "civilised" society?

He had stopped listening to the news. He did not even own a television. He switched on the radio less and less. Neither the repetitive daily news nor the advertisements interested him. He had almost completely freed his mind from this pollution, and he truly felt better for it. Occasionally he would glance at headlines on news sites, and of course they would appear on social media, but there at least he could filter them. A small pinch was more than enough of any horror. If only everyone could recognise how dreadful the things are that fill minds and hearts day after day!

And then there is politics. A turning point is expected in a week. It would truly be good if the prediction now made by several major analysts came to pass, and the regime that has ruled for sixteen years were swept away. It should have been replaced sooner! No one should be allowed to remain in power for this long. Not even those who do it well. Let there be someone else, someone even better! Let there be change! It is needed! What is needed is the citizen who realises sooner: I have chosen the same twice, now I will choose differently – perhaps it will be better!

Exciting and interesting days lie ahead. The final stretch of the spring work, elections and other matters. It would be good if from here on, our small country – and the world as well – moved towards a more nature-centred way of life. If no one sought to defeat, betray, or destroy one another, but instead aimed for shared development, growth, and fulfilment.

I do not know how many centuries it takes for history to repeat itself in cycles of rise and decline, but from this spring, I would ask for the beginning of an ascent – for Hungary and for the whole world. That is all I can think about here, in the capricious April wind, sitting before the open cellar door, sipping wine, in the buzzing of spring.

Steve