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Meet the Columnist

Columnist, Sheila Moss, is humor writer from  Tennessee. She writes  a weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny things that happen to everyone.

   She has written for  the Daily News of Kingsport,   Griffin Journal, Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton Advocate,  and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News Journal. She has been published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks at Guidepost Books.  Her articles have appeared in numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.

    She is a former board member and past  Editor of  the, website of  the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, the oldest and largest professional organization for columnists. She is the Web Editor of Southern  and  a founder of the Southern Humorists writers' organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of

    To carry her weekly column in your newspaper, or to republish an article, please contact her. It's that easy. 

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Hello Spring....

Hello Spring

Spring is totally out of control. Why canít we have proper seasons like we used to have? The seasons need to learn to behave and come and go when expected. Wasnít it only a few weeks ago that it was snowing? Now, suddenly, and with no warning whatsoever, the crabapple trees are in full bloom and the kids are practicing for baseball.

Iím still wearing turtle-neck sweaters, for heaven sakes!

Easter came and went so fast that I hardly knew it was here. I know time flies when you are having fun, or at least thatís what Iíve heard, but Iím not having fun yet. Could someone please issue a memo to Mother Nature to slow things down a bit until I can get my act together?

Before the grass had a chance to turn green, the lawn folks were calling to come and fertilize the lawn. ďItís too early,Ē I told them. ďWait until time for dandelions.Ē They waited a week. With all that fertilizer on it, the stupid grass is going to grow its silly roots off.

The lawn mowing guy has called me three times already ďI see you fertilized the lawn,Ē he said. ďAre you ready for me to start mowing?Ē I knew it -- stupid fertilizer has it growing like its on steroids. But itís still winter, I thought. ďJust start whenever it looks ready,Ē I said. He came the same day.

The buttercups have been blooming for weeks, but buttercups never did have any sense. They will bloom in the snow if you donít watch them. Then my pink hyacinth had to do its thing. No use talking to it. Hyacinths wonít listen worth a flip.

I havenít even raked the dead leaves that blew in during winter, much less thought about planting flowers. Iím certain that the garden centers couldnít possibly have the spring plants out yet. I havenít checked, of course, but they couldn't do that to me.

Do you suppose I am going to have to do yard work? I see a few wild weeds starting to spring up and those green onions are a foot high. Oh, my aching back. How I hate green onions.

Maybe I wonít plant any flowers this year. I say that every year, though, and then I see the flats of flowers at Wal-Mart and canít help myself. There is something in my brain that snaps in spring and makes me think I'm a farmer.

ďLook, Mother Nature, can we make a deal? Turn back the clock a few weeks and Iíll try to be ready by then. You know what happens when you jump the gun. Jack Frost comes along and nips you in the bud, right where it hurts.Ē

If I were in charge of the seasons, I would put things on a schedule and not deviate from it. Easter in March? Daylight savings time two weeks early?

Not on my watch!

After I have done spring cleaning, put away winter clothes, called the termite folks out for an annual inspection, and checked out the garden shop, then Iíll consider inviting spring to come around. Flowers will bloom in May, and summer will arrive in June when it is supposed to, the way civilized seasons ought to behave.

Now, thatís the way it would be if I were in charge.

But Iím not in charge. Spring is either drunk or losing its mind. The robins have been around so long they are growing beards and tulips are popping out of the ground in full bloom. You canít reason with a wild-eyed season.

Anyhow, itís time for my spring break now. If nobody else worries about nature acting frivolously, why should I? If spring comes before winter, baseball starts in December, the cow jumps over the moon and the dish runs away with the spoon, donít call me. Take your complaints to Mother Nature.

Copyright 2008 Sheila Moss

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