There was no weather today. If that’s possible. It wasn’t really cloudy, or really sunny. Neither warm , nor cold. The only movement was the thermometer’s slow climb from 28 to 50. Still I’m going to write about the weather.
I went for a long walk along our road and through the swamp, and ended up on the river bank under the bridge. Everywhere I went I looked for signs of spring. Still none were to be found.
Flood waters still linger in ditches and hollows.
Flood debris still clings to the trees like weaver birds’ nests.
And yet, I was not disappointed. I had expected, that the only sign of spring would be me looking for spring. And when I recognized this, and accepted it, a stillness came over me. Not unlike the stillness of the day. An exquisite suspension between past and future, winter and spring called now.
Yet, still in now I wait for spring, look for signs expecting none.
And that is the first sign of spring to me.