Sunday a week ago it was around 36oF or so, the sun was shining brightly, the sky was blue, and the ground was wet from all the melting snow. People were standing around chatting and lingering on the local supermarket parking lot to savor that first glimpse of spring, that first warmth in the air, feeling the need to squint and smile at the same time, not wanting to get back into their cars. This in-between time makes everyone so full of hope that spring is finally piercing through that coldest of winters, that it will finally arrive.
Then the week became cold, that Sunday a distant memory, more snow, more cold, tomorrow perhaps temperatures in the 40s, and more snow and sleet. Yet, yesterday I heard birds chirping. They know.
We are literally sitting on the cusp of spring, at the stage where the yin in the yang turns to the yang in the ying, the switchover point where you know that winter is pretty much past us, yet is lingering, and a late winter snowstorm is not impossible. It is a pregnant time, full of possibilities, ready to burst.