March 29

March is exiting like the lamb it would appear. After so long in our wanting some substance to the hope that spring will arrive in full measure, today has started with a brilliant sunrise, still air, and temperatures climbing into the 40s at 7:00 am.

I took the dogs for a walk to the lower fields on the northwest corner of Anna Maria just after sunrise. There is a break in the border woods of the college that gives access to a two-track which leads to the farm’s roughly 8 acres of land used for vegetables. Now of course, the field remains snow covered, with remnant stalks of corn poking through the snow, small rows of stubble from last year’s growth in full.

As we walked the road eastward up the slope toward the upper main field, it was impossible to miss the signs all around of spring’s coming. I stopped for a moment, simply to listen and observe those things that only a few weeks ago seemed as though they would never arrive. In the air, birds all around were calling, titmice, cardinals, chick-a-dees, robins, and red-winged blackbirds, each having conversations as if to say aloud, “it is here. It is here.”

The sere remnants of last year’s golden rod and nested cups of Queen Anne’s Lace were beautifully backlit in the sunshine, golden brown against the crystalline snow. Patches of Earth, exposed by drifts and warming sun, showed hints of new green shoots of what will become this year’s tall grass.

I closed my eyes and put my face to the sun, listening to the sounds and smelling the Earth-tinged air, warmth of the spring sunshine reminding me that things do begin anew.