Climbing out of the cave and shaking off the cobwebs of hibernation
In New England, I think spring arrives slowly, and in a two-steps-forward, one-step-back kind of way. Sure, Daylight Savings kicks in with its sunny evenings, but that's in early March, when we might get a blizzard and even get another ski day in. Then there's the official first day of spring, but I bet the plows will come out at least once more after that. Everyone over a certain age remembers the April Fool's storm (my job interview was postponed and I could jump from a second floor balcony into a five-foot drift).
I think the closest to a singular moment when you realize spring is truly here, when you realize there's no more turning back, when you know it's time to pull out the warmer weather clothes and put away the winter parkas, is with the peepers.
The other night, when I was driving at dusk along some wetlands near my house, I heard them in their glory. I pulled over and listened. Hearing them can't help but make you happy, with the awareness that you'll be able to start shedding jackets and then trading in jeans for shorts. trees will begin to bud, flowers bloom, the smell of lilacs is only a few weeks away. It's a wonderful, fleeting sign of the world coming back to life.
Yes, it's fleeting. But it's also worth pausing to smell the roses. Or, in this case, to listen to the peepers.
The Good Life...
is filled with little snippets of time that can disproportionately impact our days. This is a chance to capture and share them.