Monday, March 16, 2015

March 20


Evidence suggests that the ancients did not revere the equinox as they did the solstices of December and June. Admittedly, it is difficult to celebrate it much this year, beyond a simple acknowledgement that tomorrow the days will be ever so slightly longer than the nights.

It should be a time to appreciate our balance sheet, which has accumulated a surplus of evening darkness since last autumn, at the expense of our precious daylight. Tomorrow, as the Earth begins to incline gradually and increasingly toward directness with the sun’s rays, we should at least for a moment stop to savor this accomplishment.

I am telling myself this today, because it is snowing like a fury, which is an odd contrast to the weatherman’s proclamation that spring has officially begun. Amidst the stinging snow, I decided to go for a walk down Grove Street, following the hill downward to the bend in the road just past Robinson’s Greenhouse. At midday, not a soul was out on the road. It had the look and feel of a January day. Just 50 yards or so past the greenhouse, set within the woods on the west side of the road, a singular white pine stood out tall and straight against the backdrop of its deciduous neighbors.

I noticed this tree only because a lone cardinal was perched at it summit, calling its song over and over in what I could only characterize as jubilation. No matter the snow or wind or cold temperatures, “rejoice” seemed to call out this bird. Spring is upon us.

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