Bring it On, Spring

I'm not certain, but I think I've never anticipated Spring more than I did this year.  I really try to not complain too much about the weather for 2 reasons:
1.  I cannot do anything about it. (There.  I've admitted it.  I do not control everything. But don't tell my kids.)
2.  The weather is always worse somewhere else. 

This year, however, I broke my own no whining policy.  This year, winter lasted for about a decade.

It's not that I don't appreciate winter.  I love snow.  I love getting snowed in.  I even enjoy driving in snow.  And, to me, there are few things more beautiful than a blanket of snow covering everything.  It's like a fresh start for life, and it inspires me in so many ways.

And I would much rather it be cold outside than hot.  I can dress in layers for the cold.  There's only so much one can take off in the heat and still have friends.  Plus, as a woman in menopause, I find that I don't need so many warm clothing layers as I have my own furnace thing going on with the hot flashes.

But this year, snow was about all I could see for a long time.  And we were snowed in a lot.  And not very many people here really know how to drive in the snow.  And I came down with a really bad case of it's-been-too-long-since-we've-seen-the-sun.

By the time Spring Break rolled around, I was ready to get out of the house.  A trip to the beach would have been nice.  A trip to the Southwest would have been great.  You could have sold me a trip to just about anywhere that held a good possibility of sunshine.  Where did I go?  To a place that always equals peace for me:  the home where my husband was raised.

My in-laws live farther south than we do, and their Spring is almost always about 10 days to 2 weeks ahead of ours.  It can still be winter at my house, but things will be starting to bloom in their neck of the woods. From the Bradford pear trees standing as sentinels along the driveway, irises poking through at their roots, to the tulip tree near the garage, to the wisteria on the fence, to the dogwood in the yard--they beckon me into their world.  It's like they are reminding me that winter cannot last forever and that Spring is imminent.  It's like they are reminding me of that thing I hold so dear: HOPE.

Now, do I rely on the weather for my hope? Of course not. And do I think Spring is the only season where hope blooms or that hope is dependent on the weather?  A resounding NO.  But after the long winter we just had, after a rough year in this economy, after a few life-altering decisions were made, change is welcome.  This time, it just happens to be in the form of Spring.

So, bring it on, Spring.  Woo me with your sunny days and mild temper-atures.  Beckon me with the smells of fresh mown grass and cleansing Spring rains.  Lull me to sleep at night with your cool temperatures and the breeze blowing through my not-yet-leafed-out trees.  Welcome me each day with the woodpecker in my neighbor's tree and the squirrels who are once again taking up residence in my backyard just to spite my dogs.  I enjoy you each year, but you're special to me this time.  You've reminded me of hope.