Spring

Whenever anyone asked me why I was leaving Florida to return to the Berkshires in early April, which they considered too soon and too cold, I said “to see the crocus come up.” But it was only when I actually arrived home that I realized how much I needed to be here for the spring.

COVID pushed me to Florida this past winter. Without theater, concerts, lectures, and movies, I didn’t want to face several months of isolation indoors. Although cold doesn’t bother me, I knew there would be many days when it would be too icy to take my usual walks. And, I will admit, I loved being in the warm weather from December through March.  While my friends in the northeast were housebound, I was out every day, often able to swim or relax by the pool. But it was vacation, and I was ready for it to end.

I arrived home on April 7 to glorious sunshine and warmth. Even though it is way too early to plant, there were lines at the nursery and people everywhere were raking and cleaning their yards. Like the flowers, they were starting to bloom.

Spring is the season of rebirth, the promise of hope. It marks a transition in nature and for us. It seems as though every year the seasons pass more quickly. I wonder how many more springs I will get to enjoy.     

My friends and I often talked about our plans to return to Florida next “summer,” forgetting that we meant winter. In south Florida there is little in the natural environment to mark the changing seasons. It gets a little cool (below 70 and Floridians are in parkas), it gets very hot, but the foliage, at least to my untrained eyes, hardly varies.  

As I write this it is rainy and windy, the aspect of spring as necessary as the sun and warmth. I am glad to be home for both.