I have been sitting here looking out the window, and thinking about the various indicators of spring. Anyone who lives in a place with four seasons knows what I am talking about – the little signs we look for, in a bid for reassurance that winter will end and spring will eventually arrive.
One of the first I notice was the group of daffodils popping up in our front flower bed. (Which also reminded me that we should have separated the daffodil bulbs last fall, but I digress.) The flower stems are quite tall now, and I can’t wait to see cheerful yellow blossoms bobbing on the stalks.
I also saw my first robin of spring hopping on our back lawn last week. Robins are a sure sign of warm weather coming. Of course, the robin sighting was followed a few days later by six inches of snow, which is another common occurrence. Seeing a robin doesn’t mean winter is over completely, but it does give us hope to hang on.
Even now, I am watching snow fall on green grass. I was thinking there was something not right about that particular contrast, and then it dawned on me why I found the sight so unsettling. Our grass never turned brown over the winter. It stayed a nice, healthy-looking green. If I were still in Wisconsin, one of the spring indicators would be noticing the brown winter grass turning green again, but not here.
Most of the signs of spring involve what we see out a window, but one of the biggest spring rites is done indoors. What am I talking about? Going to a fish fry. We recently discovered a church near us which offers a fish fry on Friday nights during Lent. I think we will check it out. A good fish fry will make me think not just of spring, but of home as well.
I write historical fiction, and I invite you to share the journey to published author with me.