And Suddenly the Green

I swept out today what surely must be the last remains of winter. The garage had become a veritable warehouse of sand, ferried inside in the tread of the tires from the roadways every time it snowed. A lot of sand gets spread through the course of winter -- especially on a sloped incline like the one approaching our driveway from the road down the hill. I'm routinely dissatisfied with how quickly it gets spread, having been forced one more than one occasion to leave my car at the bottom when it couldn't find the grip to make up the drive. So I can hardly be resentful of the beach that accrues in my garage. Desperate for it to arrive, I can't be picky about where it ends up.

But it's warming now, and even the orange snow fence across the road is getting rolled up until next year. So, I grabbed the broom and helped the tide to roll out. In the process, I noticed the lawn. Less than a week ago it was covered with a late snow. Today it has suddenly, inexplicably become green. Was it lurking beneath the white just waiting to spring into full-blown spring? And the beds, still cluttered with the detritus of the rotted autumn pumpkins that got frozen into place, are similarly making room for the perennial rush.

Perhaps the drab spirits so grayed and weighted by winter's girth and too many other disappointments to mention will find bulbs stirring deep within, and wake one day to discover for themselves...

...spring.