The first day of spring in Minnesota is under the snow. Tulips greeted me a year ago, but they sleep soundly today. I heard a bird or two last week when a year ago we bird-watched daily. The grass greened early. I wonder if I will see green again.
But, I am not jealous for last year. It was an anomaly. I live for these days of hibernation in the land of the cold sun. We need our winter repose to appreciate the humidity of July. I don’t believe in groundhog shadows because each day Minnesota’s weather surprises me. Where else can the sun blind me as it reflects off the snowbanks? Where else can I abate a hot flash by opening my backdoor? Where else can spring sound like the gentle melting trickle down my window pane? Where else can the lone tone of a robin bring such hope?