Okay, so meteorological spring technically started on March the 1st. Astronomical spring starts on March the 20th? 21st? 22nd? I don’t know.
I don’t care.
Today is my first day of spring. I am sitting outside on my porch swing while the sun is slowly and more slowly setting. The peepers in the neighbor’s pond have set up a symphonic cacophony of notes and the birds are competing over who can make the loudest noise.
Everyone is a winner.
My geriatric dog, Loki, is curled up on the porch, watching the world do nothing and he is content as he lays on his side and stares off into the distance. At my feet, Ugly-Cat waits. And waits. For me to put aside the computer and make clicking sounds which are her signal that my lap is ready and available.
The temperature right now is perfect, a mingling of cool with the lingering heat from the day. When I left school an hour ago (5:15), the temperature was actually close to hot and it was lovely to shed my jacket and walk bare-armed to my car and luxuriate in the warmth.
It is spring. As far as I am concerned, it is glorious and wonderful spring. The year is starting to wrap up and I am exulting in the joy that exists because I can walk to my car in warmth and sunlight and not gloomy winter clouds that are laden with chilly rain and not lovely snow.
I have stopped stalking wunderground.com and my night time prayers are no longer, “Please, God, give me snow.” I love snow. I love snow. I love snow.
And not just because I would have a snow day.
I love snow because it is lovely and peaceful and quiet. I love snow because it invites one to put on the warmest, fuzzier pajamas and wool socks and still huddle under a blanket without anyone looking perplexedly at me.
And then, eventually, by the end of February, I am tired of snow. I am tired of the weight of winter. I am tired of heavy gray skies and an absent sun and the lack of color in the world. The dun browns and dismal grays overwhelm the senses and it’s just sadness. Snow is no longer peaceful. Snow is claustrophobic and I feel like I’m drowning.
But not today. Today, right now, I am sitting with my feet balanced between the bannisters on my porch. I am wearing my sandals and I have even painted my toe nails and I’m wriggling my toes with the absolute joy that comes with spring.
Today is new. Today is going out and living life without the cursory bundling of coats and sweaters and hats and scarves and gloves. Today is living in a moment of brilliance while running my hands along the thorny edges of the budding trees. Today is celebrating the red-tinged new growth on my rose bushes, on my azalea bushes, in the heat of my blood.
Spring is about embracing the world. Spring is about throwing open my arms and letting the wind rush up under my arms and catch the cloth of my shirts and pull me along like a wayward kite. Spring is about staring at the night sky and finding new constellations.
This is spring. This is my world. This is the joy that I have today, tomorrow, and on as many days as I can.