Every year around this time, many of us, perhaps tired of this cold winter, turn our attention to any signs that spring is right around the corner. Since I love writing and talking about almost anything to do with nature, it’s a fun topic to write about.
What I really want to convey is to appreciate and notice the subtle changes occurring all around us right now and each day. Don’t wait for some artificial date on a calendar to tell you it’s “spring.” Seasons don’t arrive on a given day or even a week; they arrive in slow transitional moments with different markers signaling the warming or the cooling of our region.
Spring is much bigger. It’s bigger than St. Patrick’s Day or opening day for the Red Sox or the marathon or Memorial Day.
The seasons themselves are marked by a gain or a loss of light, the rise and fall of temperature, and the response of the natural world to it. If you wait for some specific set of criteria or a random holiday to occur, telling you it’s spring, you’re going to miss out on much of it. Take it in now.
The idea that there are actually four seasons is cute, but those are just astronomical markers. In reality, there are more than four seasons. The Anishinaabe, or Ojibwe, an indigenous group in North America, observe five or six seasons. For example, they have a word for spring: “ziigwan” (pronounced ZEE-gwun), which I would say feels to me like this time of year. According to some translations, it’s the time when winter is releasing its grip and the ice is beginning to melt. It’s a time of growth and renewal. This is the period when maple sap begins to flow as well.
You may not think of this as a traditional spring, but isn’t it in many ways?
On any mild afternoon, you can watch the snowbanks that face the sun melting by day and turning into crystallized snow cones overnight. It’s fun to push your foot into them and watch the little crystals fall to the ground, melting as they hit the warmer pavement.
If you’re a commuter, check out the sides of the road that face into the sunshine. If you’re driving on Route 2, look to your right heading west or to your left heading east on the Mass Pike. You’ll notice the sloped ground exposed, from the ever-increasing daylight that has already melted much of January’s snow.
Icicles that once seemed to stretch from the gutter line to the ground have now crashed and broken apart, replaced by dripping sounds of water flowing from the downspouts.
Looking for more signs of spring?
An edge of the exposed garden might reveal the nose of a crocus popping up, still weeks away from blooming.
In the morning next week, the song of the Carolina wren will be joined by other songbirds, which will quickly grow louder into early March. Eventually, those large flocks at the feeders will begin pairing off for another season of mating.
In the coming 10 days, flocks of noisy red-winged blackbirds will return, even with snow on the ground and cold nights still a part of the forecast. Nevertheless, these earliest migrant birds are a sign of the natural variations underway.
Chipmunks will emerge on a warm afternoon, and for early risers, a skunk, a raccoon, or a fox might may soon dart across the yard in front of you. Take care in those pre-dawn hours to watch the roads for traveling critters.
We are part of a large and vast ecological system, forever changing with each spin of the planet. Although we have a disproportionate and even menacing influence on so much of nature around us, late winter affords us an opportunity to stop for a moment and notice — just notice.
