Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Springing Forward

It's funny to me that even when I am anticipating the arrival of something, it still finds a way to sneak up on me. Does this make me inattentive? Easily distracted? I'm not sure. I think I've always had a "watched pot never boils" kind of sensibility about me. The more desirous I am of an event, the longer it takes to meet fruition, or so it seems. I try to occupy myself with the Present. I don't always get it right; I am not always living in the moment. I am still surprised by the arrival of something I once perceived as long-awaited.

I have noticed that Winter is finally releasing its icy grip. It's hard to pinpoint the beginning; the changing of the seasons. It's like a summer dusk; you don't realize that the light has grown fainter until you are in the midst of the gloaming, and the heavy sun has sunk below the horizon. Ice is shrinking away from the banks of ponds and streams, creating little white, bobbing islands. It is breaking up in the river, heading downstream and jockeying for position as it floats under and around the bridge abutments.
Mounds of snow, now dirty with exhaust, are hard to distinguish from the rocks on the hillsides. The fields are muddy, but not with the fallowness of Fall. They are spiked with tips of green, hints of the elysian summer pastures to come. The branches are not stark against the sky. They are feathered and softened, and I find myself wondering when those buds appeared.
The warmer air is ushered in by the sweet and fragrant Zephyr, supplanting the stinging and strident Mistral.

And the children. How can I miss the springing in the children? Their entire bodies are like coiled springs, waiting to release their bounding and boundless kinetic energy. Wrists, lanky with new growth, are peeking out of coat sleeves, no longer hidden by mittens. Chestnut hair, no longer captive to a hat, is tousled, and pale cheeks are pinked with outdoor exertion and exuberance. There is frolicking and cavorting, and enough wily antics for me to notice the change.
I see Spring in them most of all - an expected surprise that I am glad to welcome.


  1. I am so glad that spring will soon be here! I have had enough winter!

  2. What a beautiful, lyrical post!


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