Spring is not the most-loved season in Maine. It is vague time. Not cold, but not quite warm. Our trees aren’t white with snow, but they aren’t green yet either. There’s plenty of cold rain, and even some hail. After months (and months) of deep, shoulder-hunching cold, everyone here wants true warmth. In the last few weeks I’ve heard many people say, “I just want it to be HOT.” And that’s what happens in this state. We go from winter to summer in a flash. Suddenly it’s 80 degrees, it’s the Fourth of July, and summer is rocking. Every year, I look back and wonder what happened to that time between winter and summer – how did I miss those months?
Our spring may not be the flower blooming, cherry blossom, gentle breeze kind of spring they get further south, but this year, I am determined to appreciate the season. I am observing and taking note. There are small, folded buds on the oak trees. The grass is so green, and the tulips at my parents’ house are tiny heroes, pushing up through the black soil. The ocean isn’t the deep blue of summer yet, but it has a silvery layer that makes my chest ache.
Spring is here.