A little Ode to Spring and all that jazz…
Even at age thirty-two, I still get a little thrill when the calendar clicks over and March begins. I’m not entirely sure what brings about this feeling of joy, but I think it might be residual happiness about the school year ending, bringing lazy days of summer. Now, I’ve obviously been out of school for quite some time, and I don’t even have a teaching job that encourages me to look forward to the vacation days. It’s no matter; I still smile in blissful happiness when I step outside into the chilly March morning to hear the birds teasing each other with a call and response routine.
The magic of spring is that it brings new life to the dead earth of winter. This resurrection is nothing short of a miracle as trees begin to bud cautiously and the grass gradually creeps from dull brown to a crisp, verdant green. This awakening affects me just as profoundly as it does the nature that surrounds me, and I feel a pull toward the half-finished ramblings and stuttered starts to books that were cast aside during the unusually harsh winter. I long for the days of warmth and sunshine so I can cart my coffee and my trusty laptop outside and spend hours tapping furiously at the keys. Apparently, the resurrection affects more than just the flowers and trees.
My toes are cold, but my soul is warm and toasty. Sweet, trilling songs ring in my ears, making the need for my iTunes obsolete. Surely there is no more beautiful music than that which God created–though I’ll certainly return to my Bobby Long playlist later. It is this call and response that I hear throughout my otherwise quiet neighborhood that reminds me what it means to be alive, and I’m ready to take better advantage of this precious gift. It’s a feeling that I wish could remain throughout the year, but I know the cold winds of December will likely shrivel this new hope. For now, I’m content with a reawakening, and perhaps, as with nature, the tiny death each year makes the new life even more miraculous.