Finally, the days are getting longer and birds are chirping us awake in the morning. The trees are a blur of white blossoms and the grass that demands our weekly attention all summer is sprouting up begging for a trim.
As scared as I am to say this, for fear of jinxing the entire state of Indiana back into the ice age, the weather has turned decidedly nice. After two false starts, complete with enough snow to send our sun-starved family into an emotional tailspin, I think it is safe to say it’s officially spring in the Midwest
We’re counting this as our first official Indiana spring. Yes, we were here last year but spring was absent. Winter dragged on, outstaying its welcome by several weeks. Summer cut in line and all of a sudden it was muggy and buggy and hot without any of spring’s sweet reprieve.
Spring in the Midwest is different than in San Diego with its perpetual summer temperatures. Here, everyone spends the winter talking about spring like it’s natural salvation and as I watch it unfold I finally understand. In the summer you see things thrive, in the fall you see everything at it’s most beautiful, in the winter you watch it all die, and in the spring you get to watch it come back to life.
Last night, while Guy had the boys in the tub soaking off the remnants of dinner, I sat on the front porch finishing up some emails on my phone and it started to rain. Above me, birds perched on the new feeders we’ve hung on the porch, snacking and waiting out the momentary downpour. After living on a busy street for over a decade there’s something about being able to hear nothing but the rain. The calmness was unfamiliar. This place isn’t home but the space and the quiet are a welcome part of our lives in Indiana.
The kids are already asking if the creeks are warm enough to walk and the answer to that question is still no. That’s something we’ll have to wait a little longer to enjoy. For now we have after dinner walks in the dipping sunlight, park playdates, and all the windows open.