Yesterday, March 20th, was the first day of spring.
It might not look like spring where you are. Heather just mentioned having 100 consecutive days of snow in Toronto, and posted some fetching photos of herself in a snowsuit on Twitter. I, on the other hand, live in California. I know I’m better off than most. Not as well off as you might imagine. I’m in Northern California, the wetter, colder, less bikini friendly part of the state. Still, doesn’t everyone, no matter where they live, look forward to spring? It’s the perfect season. Not too hot, or too cold and every sliver of green makes us happy. It’s almost like we are emerging from a spiritual hibernation. Our mood improves and we take every opportunity to welcome the sun.
I don’t know what spring looks like where you are, but here it will look a bit like this:
This is my wonderful rosemary bush, it sits right outside my kitchen door. The bees and hummingbirds flock around it every spring, dancing among the dark purple flowers for several minutes before moving off. Since I’m highly allergic to bees, every bloom season is a bit scary for me, but so pretty it more than makes up for the fear factor.
My back yard has a number of fruit trees. In springtime the Golden Delicious apple and the two cherry trees set clusters of pink buds. This is always my favorite part of the cycle, just before the buds explode and reveal their delicate white blooms. When my youngest was little he would go around the whole yard pulling down every flower he could wrap his pudgy toddler fingers around.
In springtime if I have a spare moment you’ll find me here, at the edge of the deck under a huge evergreen. 
The tree cast lots of shade when the sun gets high, but it also oozes sap all over me.
You can’t miss me, I’ll be the one in a huge floppy hat, a tumbler of sun tea in one hand and a stack of books within easy reach of the other. I might also be writing, or perhaps napping.
I live in wine country, so spring means the dry desiccate bones of the ancient vines suddenly sprout leaves and turn the hillsides a pale grey green. I’m not a huge fan of the grapes in spring; fall is much prettier in my opinion.
Mustard is what I love best about spring, when huge fields are blanketed by vivid yellow flowers. They wave in the winds, and it’s so peaceful to soak in this ocean of color. I watch the birds swooping in and out of the tall stalks and I dream about being a painter. I feel an urgent desire to trap some of this magic, and I wish I could do it with a brush as well as my pen. I’m sure this longing, capturing what I feel outside, is what makes me so enamored of skillful nature writers. I share their passion to plant words on the page that can do these natural wonders justice.
Happy second day of Spring. May it come soon where you are, and may you greet it with joy and a ready pen.
