The much-awaited successor of winter is finally here, though not officially. Two months too early, according to the meteorologists. That is, in this northern part of the country where the seasons usually arrive later than in the south. I haven't had enough of winter but I can accept that, since the warm winter could not give us more snow and the extreme cold that I longed to re-experience. The season was mostly drizzly, sleety and rainy, which melted the snow and slightly flooded the ground. But now that spring is here, the blankets of snow, roadside snow banks and snow mounds are swiftly evaporating.
My four years' affinity with spring taught me how to read the subtle language of nature in this season, such as the thickening of each little twig of the trees, which is a telltale sign that leaves or flowers are budding; the chirping and the flight of the birds; the touch of the breeze; the smell of the air, etc. I have noticed these changes about two weeks ago.
Now, everything is happening in a remarkably fast pace that's escalating to the awakening of all the dormant botanical beings.
In keeping up with my yearly tradition, I'm also chronicling this year's spring by starting with the firsts of this season based on my personal sightings.
The first cloudless blue sky,
the first sunshine, when I caught sight of this man in the bus stop basking his face in the warmth of the spring sun ( I used paint daub filter here to protect the man's identity),
the first subdued sunset,
and a strikingly vibrant one a few days later,
and a distinct one in the daytime,
the first telltale buds swaying in the wind,
the first offshoot of spring bulbs,
the first winter aconites,
the first snowdrops,
the first crocuses,
the first spectacular cloud formations,
my first stargazing capture (Jupiter is still hanging around the moon, but on the opposite side now),
my first macro shots of indoor pot-grown crocuses.
These, so far, are the notable sightings that I can preserve here. I will keep my eyes open for more spring blessings that I will store in my seasonal memory cyberbox.
"Everything is new in the spring....Springs themselves are always so new, too.
No spring is ever just like any other spring.
It always has something of its own to be its own peculiar sweetness."
- Anne of Green Gables