We had a winter that seemed to qualify as such. Spring, however, is transitional, even more so than fall, which we judge by color. "Oh there is no spring anymore!" someone always asserts. What is spring then? It is not reduced to a single characteristic, is not snow, or foliage, or broiling days.
It is enough rain to keep us through the drier summers, enough heat to move our gardens, cool air well into April so our spinach doesn't bolt. It is a hatching and birthing season. Trout and Baseball season. A calendar season, as when the sun rises due east and sets due west, and a time of strong but balanced forces. For the ancient Chinese philosopher, whose source is the I Ching, it is when thunder comes out of the ground. It is called Chen, the Arousing.
A singular moment of Spring is when I can perceive upon the wooded hills around us the faintest, but deepening, blush of red and pink buds.
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