For Christmas, my parents gave me a jar filled with over six hundred small slips of paper written with conversation and writing prompts. This is the one of my responses:
It has been wonderful outside these last couple of days. The sun was shining, the breeze was whistling softly through the trees, and the birds lilted with freedom and joy. Hard to believe that snow was still on the ground, and that the entire state ground to a halt last week because of the snowstorm that blustered through. I wanted it to be spring so badly. I wanted the lovely weather in the seventies to be what we get to keep.
Unfortunately it is still the middle of February and so this was merely a brief respite from the chilling cold and fierce wind. It was warm outside, but there haven’t been any buds peeking out of the branches on the tree out my window. It was sunny, but the stand of brave daffodils in the backyard have yet to reveal their green stems. The rest of the world knew it was still winter, even while we hoped it was spring. Winter will continue. We have many more thunderstorms to brave, many more confusing temperature fluctuations to navigate, many more displays of a world at change before we have the blessing of spring.
Not that spring is the end all be all of the universe, but I would welcome a reprieve from hats, coats, and gloves weather. I’d gladly trade a rain jacket for a winter coat. I’d rather have a world covered in messy yellow pollen rather than the beautiful white snow, because I can still drive in pollen. I don’t worry about my power going out when there is pollen on the ground. Unless the terrifying thunderstorms wreak havoc on the power lines. Even then, I don’t have to worry about how I will heat my house.
I look forward to the gently budding trees that erupt into green without warning. I look forward to the sun rising earlier in concert with the birds that return from their winter hideaways. I look forward to the bourgeoning flowers in a riot of colors. I look forward to the pollen that cloaks everything, because I know that it is the trees seeking new life.
Spring offers a reprieve to the cold that creeps into my bones and makes me aware of each individual joint of my body. Spring offers a growing day, longer time in the light, as we return from the darkness of winter. Spring offers a new opportunity to see the world remake itself anew, replaying the action of creation and the first time that a flower ever bloomed, a bird ever whistled, and a stream ever sang.
Spring is waiting for us.