April 2022

Springtime for me is all about emerging; the green haze, hovering like a winter night's dream above the brown, clotted yard; arms and legs flashing out from shorter clothing after months covered in wool; the determined crocus, blue and yellow pushing through the snow; the soggy detritus revealed from beneath the melted parking lot glacier–a lost mitten, a pottery shard, discarded needles, candy wrappers, the October issue of a magazine. Each spring seems an absolute miracle when I roll down my truck windows and soak in the beautiful sounds of peepers. Then people start to emerge onto patios and the beach, lifting their faces like sunflowers to the sun, letting Spring fill them with hope and resilience.