It’s spring everybody, and I felt every 80 degrees of it today. The birds are making with the peeps and the Peeps, well, they’re making their fluorescent yellow and pink presence known in the neighborhood. 

I’ve eaten two without buying any. But I’ve felt a strange seasonal sensation lately. Not spring fever. I’m inoculated against that. It’s … cue “Jaws” music … spring cleaning. 

Housework doesn’t come naturally for me. It feels foreign, like maybe I’m descended from royalty and performing menial tasks isn’t in my DNA. I sense a fair amount of eye rolling occurring out there. 

This year, though, I’m feeling a connection with the peasantry side of my family, the Gypsy Horse Fair side, and a greater urge to not just clean, but brighten my surroundings. 

Egad, I want to paint walls. I want to get rid of a lot of stuff I have sitting around — stuff from a former life. It’s taken a long time to be OK with its removal. I hope this feeling lasts. I better act quickly before sappy sentimentality sets in.  

I used to invite people to my house so I could get the house cleaned. I knew that if other sets of eyes were to feast themselves upon my humble abode, they would behold embarrassing oversights, especially if the sun shone through the windows exposing every dust particle. 

I would become aware of a situation that had become part and parcel to my existence, not realizing that clutter had mounted like shavings in a hamster cage. That’s when I stand in the doorway of a room and try to imagine myself a stranger visiting for the first time. Do I want to visit this person? Do I want to set foot in this room? 

I just don’t care for the repetitive drudgery involved with cleaning. I want a maid, one like in old movies. Someone who is like family and loves me like kin but also keeps the house spotless. Someone with good advice who’s not afraid to share it, has a shoulder to cry on, and who can select the proper outfit for every occasion with matching accessories. I need a nanny. 

Today, Bill the window washer is coming. He’s been washing my windows for decades. He used to clean my carpets until they became so old that I feared they might get sucked up into his machine. When I begin the task of preparing for his visit, I see how long it’s been since I cleaned the sills and vacuumed beneath them. Today, I cleaned them inside and out. I evicted spiders who thought they had found their dream home with such a negligent landlord. 

I was on a roll, so I transplanted two large house plants that had outgrown their pots long ago — like gangly teenagers in cribs. Now, which walls to paint? 

The problem with spring cleaning is, each chore completed points to the next. My back says slow down while my head says go.

As a final note and since March was Women’s History Month, I would like to pay tribute to an amazing woman I doubt any readers knew. 

Her name was Betty Tyree and she was the mayor who cleaned up the little town of Bonanza east of here. I had the pleasure of interviewing her a few years ago when visiting Bonanza when we happened on her working in the yard. 

In her 20s, she started the Babe Ruth baseball program there and was the coach. She established the annual Clean-Up Day, spearheaded the largest community watch program in the state, and created Bonanza’s annual Senior Walk, which she led down Hwy. 70, just to name a few accomplishments. She was beloved Mayor Betty for 42 years making her the longest-serving mayor in Oregon and without pay. When she didn’t run for office, residents wrote in her name.

One life’s race well run for a grateful community. Her last two-year term was up Dec. 31, 2024, the night she passed. 

Thank you, Betty Tyree, for your dedication and tireless service. You were a selfless example for us all.

Peggy Dover is a freelance writer/author without housemaid’s knees. Reach her at peggydover@gmail.com.