Spring Fever

Only twenty two days til Spring, but who is counting?

My forecast shows nothing but clouds and rain for the foreseeable future. When I noticed this yesterday afternoon while sitting on my couch, watching the raindrops fight the freezing temperatures as they slowly turned to snowflakes, a sense of dread filled my body. This is the time of year that takes my head relentlessly reminding my body and soul of what is true to remember what actually is, because Spring, and the redemption of all things, for that matter, seem impossibly out of reach.

And then this morning I take Remmi out to go to the bathroom, and my annual “All is Not Lost” reminder from Nature herself hits like the most beautiful punch to the gut.

It is cold, about 35 degrees.

It is not sunny, but it is not completely overcast.

And suddenly, I realize it smells different - that smell between winter and spring (for every change of the seasons has its own glorious, reminiscent, life-giving smell). This one, the transition from winter to spring, from death to life, from black and white to bursting, glorious color, from dreary cold to crisp, warm, Vitamin D - this one is my favorite.

Perhaps because it is the most drastic, the most clear reminder that death does not win - not in nature, and not in life. But then again, maybe nature and life are not mutually exclusive.

Back to Remmi - she’s finally found the right spot to poop.

The birds are singing now. And somewhere deep in my subconscious, I hear Ben Howard singing “Old Pine,” just like he has sung it to me every February since I can remember.

And the horizon - it is not orange with the rising sun, but it’s not gray and completely devoid of it. It glimmers a little.

It glimmers enough.

Enough to get me through these final 22 days.

Enough for my head to sustain my soul with what it knows for a fact about the changing of the seasons, since the language of logic and fact is a language my soul is not all that familiar with. What would we do without this profound interlacing of the mind and the heart? They both serve as such powerful forces individually, but somewhere between the two of them, the place where they meet in the middle and coexist, nothing short of magic happens and makes the world spin on exactly the most perfect axis. The world at large, and your world right here where your dog sees it fit to poop next to your feet so you can both go on with your day. For both worlds are equally crucial for the circle of life to do its thing.

No, 22 days is not that long, my head says.

I can sustain you for 22 more days.