I knew it was Spring several days prior to all the news media telling us to “spring forward” with our clocks.
I knew, because on the evening of Wednesday, March 7, I took my dogs outside for their final potty before bed. The motion detector lights cut through the darkness, allowing me to see if there were maurauding skunks or coons or possums helping themselves to the plentiful supply of seed and peanuts spread out for the birds and squirrels. I could also see the stark, moonlit outline of the tree branches in the dense woods behind my house.
The branches were bare. Black, rough scales held in position by cracks that appeared silver around the edges; similar, I think, to open, human lips covered in that horrible Gothic-inspired make-up. Dead-looking….not yet emerging from the deep imprisonment of winter.
Then, just after sunrise on the morning of Thursday, March 8, I took the furkids outside for their first potty since the arrival of the new, 24-hour cycle. Birds and squirrels were feeding, skittering away when they heard the glass storm door close. I glanced at the trees and couldn’t believe what happened during the night, while I was sleeping.
The trees had changed clothes. Their black mourning suits had disappeared and, in their places, were gowns of that ever-so-special shade of green that marks new growth and new birth. It’s that green that defies description, remaining eternally nameless since there is no word on the human color palette that accurately depicts the hue. How could such a miracle happen overnight? Such a dramatic transformation? Could I have seen it if I’d been awake? Or was it like Santa Claus, leave the gifts and then hurry away before anyone sees him?
Or was it, quite simply, God?
Personally, I prefer the God-thing answer.
Please don’t forget to stop and notice the Spring miracles that will continue unfolding, reminding us there is an eternal cycle that is completely beyond our control; although, sadly, not beyond our power to destroy.