Things I Love About Spring

Most of the year, if you ask me my favorite season, I'll tell you it's fall. I love the vivid colors, the earthy smells, the cooler weather, the cozy clothes. But if you ask me in April, I'll tell you it's spring. Spring comes like a reward for enduring the cold, bleak winter. There are many things I love about spring: let me share some of them.

The Smell

Although I love the earthy smell of autumn, the light, fresh smell of spring is even better. Science tells us that the smell of spring is due to a chemical compound called geosmin, which is produced by bacteria in soil. It's the smell of organic matter, like last year's leaves and plants, dead insects and worms, that has been frozen over the winter, thawing and releasing compounds into the soil. The warmth of the day and the moisture of the soil cause these chemicals to volatilize, or form gases that are released into the air. But the smells of death and decay combine with the smells of new life: early-blooming flowers like snowdrops and crocuses; rising sap and tree pollen. It's a delicious combination of old and new, a reminder of the cycle of death and rebirth, of endings and beginnings.

The Changing Birdsongs

As an avid birdwatcher, my ear is attuned to the sounds of birds all year 'round. So one of my first indications that spring is coming is the change in birdsong. The chickadees begin to sing their "Sweeeee-tieeee" mating call; the cardinals start their lovesick "woob woob woob" call; the robins return and alternately call "Cheer up! Cheery-up!" and scold their neighbors. As the days grow longer and the sun rises earlier, the cheerful sounds of sleepy birds begin my day, reminding me that warmer weather and increased sunlight is upon us. And before long, the sound of birds calling for a mate becomes the sound of baby birds calling for their dinner, and birds begin to come to the feeder in twosomes and threesomes, feeding mates and feeding babies. Delightful!

Warm Days, Crisp Nights

I don't love extreme temperatures in either direction, but I do love the contrast of warmer days and cooler nights that early spring brings. The first day the sunshine seems to have some real warmth to it is a major sign of spring in my book. I love being able to shed my jacket at midday but needing a sweater in the early evening. I like leaving my windows open during the day and closing them at bedtime to enjoy the cool crispness lingering in the air. Pleasant warmth during the day and perfect sleeping weather at night. There's usually a day or two in April when I announce, "This is what the weather in heaven must be like." 

Lighter-weight, Brighter-colored Clothes

I love the changeover from cozy, heavy, bulky, earth-toned sweaters and coats and boots to shorter sleeves, floatier fabrics, more colorful tops and skirts and slip-on shoes. I love choosing a light pastel cotton scarf instead of a heavy dark knitted one. I love cropped pants and shorter skirts and bare legs instead of tights. I love grabbing my leather jacket or cheery red windbreaker and leaving behind my long black wool coat and my fur-trimmed parka. I love returning the pile of mittens and gloves and scarves and knit hats to the bin in the basement. I love pushing my black and navy hats to the bottom of the stack and pulling out the pink and purple and aqua ones. I love how my closet magically changes from black-centric to pale rainbow hues. 

More Smiles

Have you ever noticed that people smile more in the spring? At least in New England, the end of winter is a hard time emotionally for many of us. We're tired of shoveling, tired of ugly, slushy snow, tired of being cold, tired of getting up before the sun rises and getting home after it sets. The coming of spring gives us hope, boosts our spirits, raises our melatonin levels, relieves our cabin fever, and just generally makes us happier people. 

Baby Animals and Birds

Living on the edge between the suburbs and rural country, as I do, spring means lots of opportunity to see wild babies. Although I've never seen fox or coyote kits, I frequently see mothers bringing home food for their babies. We often see baby rabbits nibbling the fresh grass in our lawn. We've seen young deer and opossums and raccoons and skunks wandering through our yard. We've even seen a feral kitten or two. And of course, there are plenty of baby birds joining their parents at the feeder. It's a beautiful thing to see wild creatures tending to their young. It's yet another reminder of the cycle of life, and the new life that spring brings with it. 

Flowers

I like walking through our neighborhood in the spring and looking to see what's growing in everyone's garden. A peep of snowdrops or the greenery of a crocus is the earliest sign, followed by an explosion of violets and daffodils and tulips and hyacinths and forsythia and pussy willows and azaleas and phlox and bleeding hearts and pansies. The colors and the smells make my heart happy. 

Trees

There are few sights as glorious as a magnolia tree in full bloom, unless it's a dogwood or a crabapple or a cherry or a Japanese maple. I used to work in a particularly ugly section of Boston that was completely transformed for a few weeks each spring when the ornamental fruit trees lining the street burst into bloom with snow-white flowers, covering the dirty sidewalks with their pristine blossoms. The air is full of the light scent of the blossoms, the quiet droning of fat bumblebees busily zooming from bloom to bloom collecting nectar, and the susurration of branches gently moving in the breeze. There is an air of peacefulness and serenity that soothes the mind and the soul. 

The Sounds

In addition to the changing birdsongs, there are many new sounds that arrive with the spring. Some, like the owls in the woods behind my house, we hear simply because the windows can finally be left open at night. But others are due to the changing season, like the insistent chirrr-up of the grey tree frogs, the galumphing and plonking of the bullfrogs in the pond across the street, the buzzing and clicking and chirping of various spring insects - and the sound of people emerging from their winter hideaways. Children riding bikes and skateboarding and making chalk drawings and jumping rope and playing hopscotch and squealing simply for the joy of it. Volleyball players setting up their nets and cheering each other on. High school runners practicing. Neighbors chatting or calling out a cheerful "hello" as they walk their dogs or go for a stroll or check out each other's gardens. Dogs barking gaily and splashing in the pond and crashing through the woods in search of sticks and chipmunks. All sounds of joy, for those who make them and those who hear them. 

Spring: it's a delight for the senses and for the soul.

Lent Photo a Day: Wilderness

Wilderness can come in many forms. Wilderness is a place that is untamed by mankind, but it can be either barren or overgrown. We think of early American settlers as crossing the wilderness: cutting paths through forests, clearing bushes to build their homes, leveling the overgrown plants to plant their own cultivated crops. We also think of Moses and the Hebrew people being lost in the wilderness as they fled Egyptian slavery. Their wilderness was sand and rock and sun and drought. It needed to be tamed, not by cutting back the overgrown plants, but by coaxing plants to grow by digging wells and adding nutrients to the soil and providing shade. Both forms of wilderness needing to be tamed, and yet very different from each other.

This morning, my front yard looks like still another kind of wilderness. This wilderness is cold and white and barren and ice-covered. There is no warmth for plants to grow, the soil is buried under both fresh and packed-down snow and ice, the plants have not yet attempted to peek out their green shoots from the hard soil.

But even in the wilderness, there is life. I expected last night’s snowfall to have left a clean, even, unbroken coating over the lawn. But by the time the sun rose, there was already evidence of small explorers, travelers through the white wilderness. Long before dawn, our local rabbit had left a trail of little bunny prints poking around the yard.

He peeped under the bushes to find a bit of tender green, to test the soil for softness, to hunt for fresh growth to nibble on. Even in the wilderness, he knew there was sustenance, if only he could find it.

And even as I watched, other creatures followed the trail he had blazed: birds hopped around looking for seeds and bugs; squirrels chased each other, digging at the roots of the trees for last year’s acorns. They were not afraid of the apparent barrenness of the wilderness, for they know that it is not truly barren. It is simply waiting for the warmth of spring to release its treasures of blooms and bugs, of color and energy, of growth and beauty. The wilderness is waiting to be tamed, and to share its sustaining reward.

Wilderness.

Photo A Day, Day 5: Not Mine

With the beautiful, warm weather we’ve had most of this past week, my kids and I spent as much time outside as we could. We had a picnic on the porch, they rode their bike and trike, we went to the playground, and we did one of my favorite spring traditions: we took a walk through the neighborhood looking for signs of spring.

Our yard is not particularly sunny, and I am not much of a gardener, so there aren’t many signs of spring in our own yard. I don’t have any bulbs that bloom this early, no snowdrops or crocuses, and my dwarf irises have barely peeped their little green noses through last year’s mulch. The best we can do is listen for lovesick chickadees and cardinals high up in the trees, and catch an occasional glimpse of the robin who likes to attack his reflection in the side mirror of my husband’s car. But I have neighbors whose yards have started to remind me that spring is truly on its way.

One of the first peeps of green we saw on our walk was this clump of white and purple crocuses shooting up through a few of last fall’s leaves. You can practically see them reaching towards the sunshine and straining to burst open and show their fuzzy gold hearts. Thanks to my neighbors, I can be reassured that spring is coming, courtesy of their beautiful flowers, even though they’re not mine.