Spring. Is there anything more joyful, more hopeful than the coming of spring? Possibly, but not in my world.
What’s that, you say? What about the icicles hanging from the eaves, the eight inches of fresh snow on the ground? Ah, but as my mother used to say, “Snow that late in March can’t stay on the ground long.”
So I deny reality and celebrate spring. I no longer look to spring as a time to play jump rope or hopscotch, but I really enjoy a walk outside. (Soon) I look forward to seeing the bare ground and the first brave flowers poking through the earth. I am overjoyed at the first sighting of a robin. The sky looks different. The clouds look different. The daylight hours are welcome.
I love starting to peel off some layers and especially exchanging my bulky winter coat for something lighter and brighter.
But, wait. Here in New Hampshire and Vermont, we have a dirty little secret, and dirty it is. Here we have a fifth season, and it is called mud season. Depending on the weather, it begins a week or two before spring arrives and lasts three or four weeks. (Yes, we had a sampling of it last week before the winter storm intervened.) And it is muddy! You have to be careful where you step and even more careful driving if you live on or are visiting someone on a dirt road. And there are lots of dirt roads and driveways.
But spring is here on the calendar, and soon the weather will catch up to the promise!
© Dorothy C. Judd
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