If you have any heart for the outdoors, spring will fill that heart with elation. Summer and fall, even winter, have their charms, but spring is the rebirth of hope. It is that time of year when the gates of ice and snow are opened and the long-imprisoned molecules of water are released into the world in a riot of babbling brooks, cresting creeks, and muddy roads.
I’ve been reading Supper of the Lamb: A Culinary Reflection by Robert F. Capon. He rightly locates water on the map of significance: “Admittedly, the Scriptures begin and end with water. There is a river in Eden, and there is a river in the Heavenly Jerusalem: All life comes from the sea. Equally certainly, without water, no life is possible in between. No man can praise it enough. It is the root of freshness, the sign of purity, the means of grace. Most of all, it is the element that makes earth Earth, the principal ornament of the round world, the blue mantle of what must be a stunning planet indeed…. But for all that, plain water is not the world’s best gift to a stew.”
Two days ago, I opened our bedroom window and heard the faint hint of spring peepers on the wind. Yesterday, the lascivious call could be heard through the walls. For the next several months, these amorous amphibians will be guaranteeing fresh voices for next year. Spring peepers live about three years, so they fornicate like… frogs, I guess, in the short time they have.
This week is spring break, and the timing couldn’t be more perfect. It’s the first week of the year where coats are not a necessity, and the kids can play outside without the twenty-minute ritual of snow pants, boots, hats, gloves, blah, blah, blah. Tater’s preschool teacher assigned some homework this week: Go outside and collect some nature. I love that.
Hopefully you and yours are getting to do the same.
Happy spring, everybody!