This piece appeared first in the Spring edition of the magazine, Edible Berkshires.
March Madness. I had a son who played high school basketball so I know all about the NCAA tournament.
But I’m talking about a different sort of madness here.
The kind where you’ve absolutely and totally had your fill of winter. And then some. But there’s at least five or six weeks of it left. You just don’t think you’re going to survive the last gasps of snow and ice and that bone brittle cold.
In three days the calendar says spring will arrive. Who are we kidding?
What about that mid-sized glacier blocking my back door? I need hip boots to get to the bird feeder.
Who decided spring was in March anyway?
In 2009, my husband and I lived in Washington, DC, where I saw dark purple and yellow pansies thriving in FEBRUARY! And the first week of April, there is the miracle of cherry blossoms.
Hundreds of trees, each looking like they are wearing a delicate pink ballerina’s skirt fluffing around them.
Back to the misery that is an early Berkshire County spring. I am remembering a May 20th when we had to light the damn woodstove.
OK, enough of this miserable complaining. For a moment this morning, stare at the beautiful meadow outside the window.
There now. It’s sunrise and the willow trees are glowing a pale orange. The buttery disc that is the moon is setting over that beautiful hillside you are so fortunate to see.
Before you decide you are moving to Miami, open the back door and inhale the absolutely pristine country air. Let the throaty racket that is the morning’s birds settle deep into your heart and soul.
Soon you will start to feel the continuing miracle that is Mother Nature.
Meditate on the fact that despite the cold and snow, the sun is up once again and it’s another glorious day in the Berkshires.
Finally, thank God, it's here. Hard to fathom what’s happened in the last few days.
It was winter-looking even on Sunday. The pond still had some white ice.
The backyard glacier was still the size of a sectional sofa. There, lying everywhere in the backyard, were those crystallized eyebrows of snow.
And then of course, was the mud. Where there wasn’t snow there was the misery of goo that we have to endure between winter and spring.
But whoosh! Monday came and its mild temps erased the ice. The glacier was no bigger than a dinner plate. The mud was drying up.
Now there's a hint of spring in the lawn. Green shoots have popped up everywhere, and amidst the crusty brown leaves appears the first purple crocus!! Soon we will have the ecstasy of daffodils and tulips.
The birds are doing their sweet singing, too, and those wonderful spring peepers are making a racket, which always sounds a bit extraterrestrial to me.
At the feeder today, there are brilliant yellow goldfinches. And a redwing blackbird. And nuthatches. And then, our one true harbinger of spring: dozens of robins are bobbling around right where that glacier used to lay.
Will the rose-breasted grosbeak return come May?
Open the windows and all of the doors. Let it all in: the sun, the budding trees, the spring breezes that smells like warm earth.
After what we in Berkshire County have endured, there is no end to this mighty miracle that is spring!