remembering spring

I heard a bird yesterday.

I realize this may not be alarming to many of you, but as I sat in an airport shuttle van with the sliding door open to the warm Dallas air, the chirp smacked me square in the forehead – as sounds do when you hear them for the first time in five months.

Five months. Five solid months of snowfall. Five months of lifeless outdoor landscapes. Five months of keeping two small, male children mostly indoors and going positively stir-crazy.

That’s not to say that beautiful, crisp winter mornings don’t have their place. They certainly do. On Christmas.

So birds. They have those here in Texas right now, apparently. Which shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did considering that the first 18 years of my life I lived in a climate so moderate and constantly alive that moss growing on people’s roof shingles is a legitimate problem. There’s moss on everything in Oregon, as if the whole state were that part of the woods that’s far enough in so no one goes and disturbs it and moss and such feels safe enough to grow. At least that’s how I remember it.

In Minnesota, everything dies. I guess this comes in handy in the area of moss and bugs and other things it’s nice to kill out once a year, but it is positively devastating for the humans that live through it. It seems like every year I make it through January in Minnesota and think that I’ve made it. I’ve survived negative temperature highs; the dead of winter is behind me. But then I get to March and I’ll be darned if it’s not 38 times longer than January ever was. March holds the promise (and even the delivery) of spring for so much of the country. Birds chirp from California to DC. Moms instagram pictures of their kids in shorts, outside digging in the sandbox.

Meanwhile, I have 10 inches of snow in my yard. March makes me dig way, way down deep to this treasure trove of memories. I remember that last summer it was gorgeous and hot and sunny and my kids were the ones playing in the kiddie pool in the back yard. I think through the fog about the days out on a boat on the St. Croix river. I will myself to recall the afternoons we spent in the strawberry fields as a family.

And sometimes, I fly to Dallas and hear a bird chirp just to get me through.

I will make it. Spring will come. It will.


13 Responses to “remembering spring”

  1. Christa

    So true Allison! We always go somewhere warm to cope. I beg my husband to look at jobs in Des Moines as is warmer! How sad. It is another really cold day here in MN. Take your time in coming back as not warming up anytime soon:(

  2. Aimee S.

    You can always fly south for the winter. ;) So glad our birds in Dallas are singing for you this weekend. It always amazes me to hear birds chirping after winter. It just brings so much hope for some reason. Our winters aren’t harsh…or long, but I despise winter and long for spring and summer, too.

    Congrats on the Bebe!

  3. Candace

    I soo hear you Mama! I almost cried yesterday when my yard was covered in white once again and I’m so desperate for sunshine! It certainly doesn’t help the depression I’ve been dealing with with my Hypermesis and like you said- a stir crazy toddler!

  4. Michelle

    Oh I hear your pain! We had beautiful warm weather, the snow was melting and the roads were finally clearing and then in one cold awful day we got ten inches of snow. i feel like we are back at the beginning and have to start all over to find spring again!

  5. Kelly @ Love Well

    I know. I know you know I know.

    If nothing else, I do see how God teaches me faith here, which is believing in something I cannot see or hear or taste or touch. But it’s coming. I know it.

    (I’ve heard birds outside my house the last few weeks. I don’t know what they’re singing about, but they are here, living sentries of hope.)

  6. Sarah S

    I cannot imagine! We live in Oregon, in a neighborhood with a lot of trees and we actually had moss grow on our cars this year. OUR CARS!!!! I was in shock. (and annoyance because man, that stuff can be hard to get rid of and yes we have to treat our roof every year). Hopefully the snow will melt for you soon.

  7. christa

    I hear you, it’s been a long cold winter in Vermont as well. We had a snow day from school on Tuesday! As I look out my window, it’s snowing again!

  8. liz

    Don’t feel so bad. I live less than an hour north of Atlanta and it snowed yesterday morning. Spring fail.

  9. Samantha

    Soul. mates. I’m sitting inside on March 23 in Colorado while 3-6 inches fall and it “feels like” 4 degrees outside. It is hard not to get depressed and feel like winter never ends when snow storms crop up through May. :( We will make it through!

  10. Amanda

    Oh, I hear you! It was like 40* the other day and I cracked open a window just to feel the fresh air. My little one heard a bird sing and said “Bird!” so happily… and I knew just how he felt. :) I just love Spring in Minnesota, even though it only lasts a few weeks. So much hope and life after the death of Winter. I love that resurrection picture. :)

  11. Erin

    I was running last week and heard a bird, somewhere in the dark. I almost stopped mid-stride because it startled me. Spring is here, somewhere.

  12. Katie

    I randomly came across your blog while up late nursing my new baby boy… I too live in the most horrible place we call Minnesota. I’m not sure I have ever thought of Minnesota is the most terrible place but this winter yes… It most certainly is! It’s May tomorrow and I just saw they are calling for more snow this week. I just wanted to say cheers… You are not alone in this tundra. Aka Minnesota!

    Filling my dreams with summer boat rides tonight!!


Leave a Reply

  • (will not be published)

XHTML: You can use these tags: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>