The caress of a warm breeze on my face, the distinctive smell in the air of spring. The sound of singing birds in the morning, singing as if to welcome the day. Spring is finally coming, all the signs are showing themselves.
As I sit by the window and look outside at the piles of snow on my lawn, the ice ruts in the driveway and the snowflakes falling lazily from the sky, I think about how strange hearing "spring is coming" must sound to someone who isn't from northern New England. To look out upon this frozen landscape, they would laugh at my assertion and drive themselves south to where "spring has already sprung"...because to them, there are no signs...no signals that they recognize as springs herald. But we know. The Natives of this wintry land. We have been trained to see...to look for the subtle indications that she is finally ready to bless us with her lush greenery, gentle rains and warm days.
The presence of the first red breasted robin! Lily's sprouting from the warm earth! The first small buds appearing on the deciduous trees! After such a winter I find myself looking for these things every day, daring to hope that soon all this snow will be gone and once again I will be able to walk barefoot through my garden and dig in the warm, moist earth. Listening to the sounds of the peepers in the pond across the field, and the songs of the summer birds that sing with the sun.
So I say to the non-natives...go. Go south to where the ground is bare and the trees are budded and the birds are singing. Spring has already blessed the earth there, she has come..and gone. But here, here she has yet to completely arrive...she is at the door, but has yet to pass through the threshold...And watching the blessing, watching the earth resurrect after months of cold and sterile conditions...well that is where the magic really is....its all in the awakening.