It was still early in the morning. It was cold and Mom was in a hurry.
“Come on, Till,” he called. – Where is your hat? Let’s miss the bus!
Till swallowed the last bite and headed for the kitchen wall. There hung a calendar with many sheets. On the top one was written “March 20th”. It had been yesterday. Till tiptoed over, raised his hand…
– Where are you, Till? Called the mother from the doorway.
Till dropped her hand.
“Well, I don’t change now,” he muttered, running off.
And the calendar there had to continue on “March 20th”. The draft shook the leaf slightly and made it whisper.
– What a hassle! Murmured the wind, grumpy outside. – Today is not yesterday. Spring is coming, but it can’t, and it’s going to have to wait… ”
“We have a lot of work to do,” he whispered to the clouds, tousling them in disarray.
– Do not say! Hummed the clouds. They split into cotton balls and whispered in the scarecrow’s ear:
– Spring is coming!
– And why not? He exclaimed.
He widened his scarf and nodded.
“I was already here with a feeling!” He added pleased.
The scarecrow tickled the mole until she awoke.
– Atchim! – sneezed. “How dare you wake me in this icy cold?” Let me sleep! He muttered. Then he folded his hands over his belly and fell asleep again.
The genius of the roots rubbed his eyes and left his den.
– Spring is on its way. Who will ring to announce your arrival? He shouted at the bells. They slept gracefully and were not disturbed.
Sadly, the genius of the roots blew on his fingers, which were cold.
– Hey, wake up! Said Mrs. Earth, willingly. He pulled the daffodils by the bulbs and straightened the primrose stem. He sprinkled the violet. The three flowers smiled happily, still dreaming.
A bell stretched and elbowed the anemone.
– I’m tired. Touch you, ”she said as she trembled and covered her ears with a leaf.
But the anemone wrapped itself in her pelvis.
“It’s very cold,” he said softly, closing his eyes with long lashes.
– Lazy weeds! Scolded Mrs. Earth. – So how is it? Come on, come on! Spring is near! – He tied the apron. “I’ll get them moving,” she said firmly, fetching a broom.
The blackbird and the mejengra were perched on the tree.
– Spring wants to arrive! What? With this glacial weather? They chirped, cold. – How will it be?
And, bored, they closed their feathers. The wind rubbed his hands and took a deep breath.
“Enough of roaming around,” he scolded the snowflakes. “It’s time to lose weight,” he said then, turning to the snowman.
But something was not right.
– Missing the sun, of course! Muttered the roots genius sadly.
He pushed the clouds, pulled others, and heaved, the laziest ones. In vain. It was noon and the wind was whirling, not knowing what to do. The genius of the roots sat by the stove chimney, lurking in the first rays of the sun. Mrs. Earth cleaned tulip bulbs while humming. But everything was white with snow, the sun didn’t show, and the bells continued to sleep.
The bus where Till was driving home with her mother was panting up the road. It stopped, and Till and her mother dismounted. Together they opened the door and entered the kitchen. A draft blew the calendar sheet and caught her mother’s eye.
– Oh, Till! She exclaimed in wonder. – You didn’t take out the calendar sheet! Yesterday is not today, and spring wants to come in!
Till sprang to her feet and tore off the sheet.
Then the sun came out from behind the mount and began to shine brightly. The wind filled her cheeks and turned south. The genius of the roots grabbed Mrs. Earth by the apron and they both danced, accompanied by the song of the scarecrow.
The mole elbowed the violet.
“Let’s go,” he muttered. – Spring is time to bloom!
The wind finally breathed in relief. The new calendar sheet was called “March 21”. Sigrid Laube; Silke Leffler Aufgewacht, der Frühling kommt! Wien, Annette Betz Verlag, 2004 (Adapted text)