Everyone I know is longing for spring. But I think only those of us who have endured decades of New England winters, followed by a reprieve while living in warming climes – where spring starts in February and doesn’t end until June – and THEN, like crazy people, came back to the chilly Northeast in the middle of winter, can understand true longing.
Seriously, though my head knows that eventually trees have to bud, snow has to melt, and 60 degree days have to exist, my heart doesn’t quite believe it. Here’s why.
I love my new life in Boston. Love it to pieces. And it’s hard to imagine loving it more than I do at the moment. But I also love spring. It’s always been my favorite season, and it’s coming. So put spring + Boston + me together…and well, let’s just say I wonder if that’s too much awesome to ask of the universe.
At any rate, if you doubt that spring is on the way, I submit the following pictorial evidence.
A few weeks back, this is what you’d have seen in the Arboretum near my apartment:
This weekend, you saw bare ground:
BUDS! on a brave little tree:
And one tentative white bloom, testing the air, hoping the snow forecast for next week is just a cruel joke:
And though it was still a bit too cold for comfort, you’d have seen two happy gals romping about in the mud, waiting for the glorious days of new leaves and warm breezes. Spring is coming, y’all. Sadie says so. Hang in there.
Everything and a Racehorse 