Spring Is Falling

Summary:  "It's Spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart." - Rainer Maria Rilke

Why it's a Mind Blow: We just had that time in Vermont, that special time that comes only once a year, when the April sky turns gray, the north wind fights back a bit, and the rain falls with a determination that justifies the word "shower". When the clouds finally lift with the high pressure of birdsong and the sun declares May, everything has changed. Everything is green, lush, delicious. Everything is teeming and alive. The dandelions appear like popcorn and the robins pull fat and juicy worms from the chocolate-cake earth.

It is Spring, or rather, a part of Spring; for Spring has many seasons. A little league baseball game one afternoon can include many turns. In the second inning, the field is still a little wet. There's a long puddle between the pitching mound and home plate, and the clouds haven't broken. The breeze is cold and even a little foreboding. The rain could return at any time, maybe even sleet, sending us running back home where the glass hasn't even come off the screen door.

By the fifth inning, the sun burns off the cloud cover just long enough to remind everyone that the Earth has once again tilted back toward our mother star. It's only fifty-nine degrees, but the sunlight has a strength and a promise we haven't felt in many months. There are birds chirping that weren't there before, buds swelling that shriveled in wait only half an hour earlier. The bats swing looser and the laughter flies easier. Someone is roasting some hot dogs.

By the middle of the seventh, the sun is sinking low. The clouds loom again, bathed in crimson, and a flock of geese fly over, bound for rest across the lake. Night comes quickly, reminding us that there is still school in the morning. There's mud in the parking lot that's ankle-deep, and everyone's glad they brought their sweatshirts after all.

Yes, Spring is a time of many seasons. Tales of the deep snow and the dog days are never far from our hearts, and our dreams wander freely between hearth and hope. It's a unique moment that only comes so often on our finite journey. It's beautiful, and I hope you'll drink it in. I hope you'll embrace Spring in all its varied and complicated splendor.

I hope you'll revel.