Sunday, March 17, 2013

Spring Forward

First catkins.

The wind is singing in the trees, the sun is high in the sky, the birds are serenading from the treetops. The very air beckons come out, come out! So, I go. Underfoot the ground is soggy, spongy with seeping moisture and melting frost. I look around to make sure no one is watching and then skip and hop down the meadow path, flinging my arms out to the wind. I twirl and dance all by myself among the field grasses, feeling five years old and happily unfettered.

All around me are signs of impending spring—rushing water in the creek, the faintest brush of yellow across the willow tops, a balminess to the late afternoon that speaks of April. A red-winged blackbird chortles to itself among the rushes at the creek’s edge. Two cardinals carry on a conversation in song, back and forth, whistle for whistle until their voices overlap and run into each other. Five fat crows digging for things in the flattened grass make raucous comments as I pass and disgruntled, lift themselves off on glossy wings to dig farther afield.

I stop to admire the catkins on a pussy will bush. Soft and silvery gray, they look like furry little dewdrops. Every tree and bush bears fat buds ready to burst in the lengthening daylight and burgeoning warmth. I leave the meadow, duck into the woods. Sunlight slants through the trees, burnishing last year’s discarded leaves, pinpointing abandoned bird nests and polishing the soft, punky sides of fallen logs. Here the wind, filtered by a thick stand of trees, does not push so hard. There is solace here among the great weathered trunks and strong branches, comfort and strength and such beauty that my heart lifts and soars.

High in the southeastern sky the moon is a pale thumbprint pasted on blue paper. The sun sinks lower, taking the west wind with it until the whole meadow lies quiet, gilded, and I am the only thing stirring as far as I can see. I too, stand still, unwilling to disturb such peace. But, the sun path at the edge of the meadow is too tempting. I flee the chill of the shadowed ground, skip and hop into the waning sunshine.

More snow is predicted for the middle of the week. Winter is not done with us yet but oh, these days of golden promise will keep me happy until the promise is fulfilled.

11 comments:

Brian Miller said...

funny it was 70 here yesterday and we may get 2 inches of snow today....what crazy season we are in...i love the sights that promise of spring though...

Molly said...

What a beautiful song to Spring and optimism and hope! Even a long dreary winter can't keep a good woman down! When are you headed this way Pauline?

Kerry said...

I love to imagine you skipping about joyfully. It's so great to be alive in the springtime, isn't it? If the snow returns, it is never for long this time of year.

Tabor said...

WE have at least a half inch of snow and it is still coming down. This is only the second snow we have had all year and my daffodils are blooming!!

Russell said...

Enjoyed reading your impressions of spring.

This morning (Monday, March 18) we are getting snow here in Iowa. However, it is a March snow. Very wet and heavy. It looks nice but will be gone in a few days.

Yes, spring is almost here!

Marc Leavitt said...

Pauline:
Your latest post broke my cabin fever.

Judith said...

I'm glad you got to enjoy the golden promise before the white stuff invaded yet again.
Spring! Someday!

Barbara said...

I know Spring is coming when you start twirling in the field grasses. It happens that way every year!

Friko said...

I saw you, I did. Honest, I did. And then I went round the bend in the road and gave a little hop and skip myself.

The snow is back but I have seen tiny daffodils and they are still there, somewhere, waiting.

Joanna Jenkins said...

It's been a crazy long winter in so many parts of the country. Hope spring pops up in your neighborhood soon-- You're writing is so beautiful I look forward to hearing about it.
jj

Pauline said...

Brian - I wrote that a week ago (I've been away) and already there are new signs! :)

Thanks Molly. Headed to the sun tomorrow!

Kerry - someday I may do it without looking around to see who's watching ;)

Tabor - daffodills are better at bearing the last snows than I!

Russell - hope that was your winter's last gasp.

Marc - hooray!

J - perhaps when I return from FL next weekend ALL the snow will be gone. Fingers crossed!

Barbara - I do twirl every year, no matter when I am. It's become a little ritual now :)

Friko - loved the idea of you hopping and skipping about :)

JJ - thanks :) I'll keep you posted!