After a ghastly winter, complete with a polar vortex that dumped tons of snow and inflicted us with subarctic temperatures, spring has finally arrived. And not a moment too soon.
I greet the thaw the way a castaway greets a rescue ship, wild-eyed, delirious, and ready to hug the first patch of muddy grass I see. The sight of the first crocus poking through frostbitten ground is as welcome as finding a twenty-dollar bill in the coat I wore all winter, just before I put it in the back of my closet for another year.
Spring, where I live, is magical. One week, everyone is chipping ice off their windshields, while the next, the kids are playing Horse on the neighborhood basketball court, with one side shirtless. People seem more outgoing, greeting each other during our daily walks now, sans parkas and face masks.
The first warm breezes of spring are thrilling. My wife, who is a firm believer in ‘airing the house,’ can now do it without first putting on three layers of clothing, and I no longer have to sleep with two pairs of socks to keep my feet warm. It also means that the extra blanket she insists on putting on our bed goes back in the closet, and I no longer wake up at four in the morning sweating from the heat and feeling like I’m being smothered.
I get a kick out of watching my neighbors, emerging from their burrows, blinking in the sunlight like groundhogs who overslept. They’re pale from lack of sun, and I’m amused at those who jump the gun and decide to jog in shorts and tee shirts when the temperature is approaching 50 degrees, only to have to rush shivering back into the house when they realize that it’s not quite yet ‘shorts’ weather.
Spring, of course, brings its own challenges. My aversion to pollen, which clogs my breathing passages and causes my eyes to turn the color of stop lights. I sneeze until my nose runs faster than I did when I did the 400-meter relay in high school. I also resume my war with the squirrels who insist on invading my bird feeder.
But, you know what. I wouldn’t trade spring for anything. There’s something amazing about the new growth, the cacophony of frogs, and the longer days. A sunny afternoon is a miracle, and every new green shoot is another sign that we’ve survived another winter. I might not be ready for shorts and a T-shirt for a couple of months, and I’ve stocked up on antihistamines for the pollen. I welcome the muddy running shoes and the runny noses with open arms.
A toast to new beginnings, warmer days, and a wish that next winter’s polar vortex takes a wrong turn at Albuquerque. | NWI
