What was I thinking?
Early Spring is subtle and its quiet splendors ask only that you look past the melting snow and dead grass and mud puddles to find beauty in the delicate green of a hellebore at your feet or the blushing red maples on the hillside. Every year, every Spring, I need to remind myself that Spring isn't really a season unto itself, but rather a collection of moments and, above all, a time of transition. A period of waiting and watching. The signs now are mostly small and easy to miss, but they're there.
"Once a day and sometimes more
I look out my day-dream door
To see if spring is out there yet
I'm really anxious, but mustn't fret.
I see the snow a melting down
and lots of mud and slush around
I know the grass will surely sprout
and birds and flowers will come about.
But why oh why does it take so long?
I'm sure the calendar can't be wrong.
Sunshine fills my heart with cheer
I wish that spring were really here."
- Edna T. Helberg, Longing for Spring