It’s the first day of spring and in my corner of the world it is sunny and windy and warming. Our shadowed days turn toward light as surely and unstoppably as the daffodil and tulip bulbs send out shoots that stretch toward the surface.
In the Midwest, it nearly always feels like spring is slow in coming, especially as our friends in more southerly climes share pictures of blossoming trees while ours are yet covered with ice. But it always comes. And, if Facebook Memories are to be trusted, it basically always comes around the same time, so what are we complaining about? We know how this goes.
In this season of cackling sandhill cranes and chortling songbirds, of trash blown into the yard from the nearby shopping center, of swelling buds and sunshine you can actually feel, we begin to think of outdoor projects, outdoor exercise, outdoor cooking and dining. What will be the first day we wear sandals, the first day we walk barefoot on the grass? When will we get out the bikes? When will we grill that first steak? (For us, last week.)
We also think of lasts. When was the last time I wore this? The last time I used this? Off it goes to the thrift store or onto Craigslist. Students look forward to the last test, the last class. I wonder to myself, when did I last wash these windows? Could it truly have been three years ago?
When did I last have something to say on this blog?
We open windows and let that fresh, fresh feeling in. That newness. That scent of snowmelt and soil. That beautiful promise of warmer days. They are just ahead. So close, you can almost taste them.
Spring is the future, now.
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