Spring

As I step out of the house, the freshness of the air bombards my sense of smell. Something I haven't smelled in many months. My skin notices too. It feels the warmth of the morning's breath. As I stand on the porch and take a deep breath, I am relaxed, suddenly realizing what is most remarkable is my lack of physical reaction to the warm air. I am not bracing against the cold, that odd reaction we have, instinctively recoiling to hold in the warm air under our coats. Then, I notice. I am squinting. The Sun! Blessed sunshine. Vitamin D. Where have you been?

As I watched the summer turn to Fall, I recognized the finer stages of Fall. Sure, the leaves change colors and fall, but think about Winter. Everything in the Midwest is brown. Even the grass. But it doesn't happen all at once. For a while, after the leaves have fallen and the underbrush has died back, the grass is still green. It provides a last view of summer. A long goodbye.

So it's fitting that as Winter loses its grip, the grass is the first to respond. Brightening up our lives with color we haven't seen since November. Buds begin to form along branches. Crocus and narcissus and daffodils begin to poke through the faded mulch. The woodland underbrush begins to take on a slight shade of green. At first it's like a cloud in the woods. Just slightly visible over the brown. Almost overnight the buds fatten and pop open. Flowers begin to emerge amidst the branches. And spring explodes into a rhythm of color and a cacophany of birds newly returned from their southern sojourn. We all begin to feel better, more alive. And the promise of summer fun, bike rides, boating, swimming pools, golf, baseball, hiking, picnics and more, shines like a rainbow at the end of a summer storm.