Today marks the first day of Spring, but where I live there’s still about 6 inches of snow on the ground, left over from two big snowstorms last week. Real Spring here starts more like in May, but it’s OK: I can wait. The benefits of living in a place with distinct seasons for me is experiencing a clear sense of change in the weather. Where I live, it seems as though that when Spring really comes, it’s as if the outdoors suddenly explodes with colors and sounds. It’s intense, but a welcome shift, a clear demarcation of something new.
What metaphors about Spring apply to you?
When is the first real day of Spring for you?
What’s under the snow?
What’s waiting to emerge, burst forth?