Ahhh, spring…it’s not just time to lose an hour on the clock, wear brighter colors and white shoes, shed the winter coat, and pay homage to a chocolate-and-Peeps-bearing rabbit. For the more intellectual gang, today is also the vernal equinox in the Northern hemisphere, or when the sun crosses directly over the Earth’s equator (it happened at precisely 7:44 A.M. EDT this morning, in fact).
So, who cares? Well, day and night are about equal in length all over the world during the equinoxes. There’s another one on September 22nd and will be the autumnal equinox in the Northern hemisphere (source: infoplease.com).
What’s not to like about spring, besides the impending doom of a suffocating, humid summer creeping up right behind it? Growing up, I loved the defiant crocuses, bursting from half-frozen ground, pushing the icy earth aside to declare the beginning of spring, cold be damned. I liked the sea of daffodils in every imaginable color scheme that popped up all along my parents’ yard, the tulips, and later, the lilacs, my absolute favorite still.
Last week I noticed that the petunias I had planted around our bird bath last year, petunias I wrote off as dead after a fairly rough winter for the south, had re-bloomed in white and pink in a perfect semi-circle. They are symbolic to me. Don’t write anything off. After the toughest times can come the most beautiful, victorious splendor. Or, at least, that is when you are most open and raw to fully appreciate what comes next.
I dropped Gary off at work this morning and headed off to work myself, humming to the radio (okay, dancing and belting it out, if you must know), still grateful and amazed that we have pulled through and keep lifting each other up. We still have a lot to get through, I know, but after being apart for so long, I consider any day that I can talk to him, hear his voice, touch his face, and put my arms around him to be a better day than yesterday.