Last week I was driving to Canandaigua through the Bristol Hills when I felt something was different around me. Could it be that the sun's rays were at a different angle? There was a brighter hue to the ground's spotty showing of brownish grass. I did roll down my windows —all four of them for good measure, and take in the smells as well. It hit me all at once. Spring was in the air. The rest of the drive, which became less a chore and more delightful, put me at my destination in no time flat. I was overjoyed and liberated at the same time as I hopped out of my car giddy as a young schoolgirl celebrating her first day of spring vacation.
As if that one shot of a new season on the horizon wasn't enough, I had dinner with a new friend, a dairy farmer in the Southern Tier, and she verified my results. She told me that signs of spring were evident last week, and by mid March it would be fine maple sugaring in her woods. She went on to inform me that the traditional winter season, so different than last year's wimpy show, was putting moisture back into the soil and giving plants time to be dormant. "One huge snowstorm, and that would be it for winter," she said as her final comment on the subject.
My adivce to myself: don't hesitate and trust the cycle of the seasons to perform its wonders.