Spring came early this year, morphing from an unusually warm winter into summer-like temperatures that refuse to give way to more moderate days. Even so, it’s officially spring, a time for the rebirth and the growth of new things. The trees are bringing out new leaves in a wonderful, ethereal green, the maple trees are busy pumping out baby airplanes, and Yoshino cherry trees are covered with clouds of blossoms that shift from white to shell-pink and back again.
Do they seem to glow
Against that blue dome of sky?
Yoshino blossoms.
I can’t think of anyone who dislikes this season, but for us it is an especially joyous time. In March we celebrate three birthdays: that of a grand daughter, a daughter in law, and a son.
Isn’t that reason for joy? Yes, and yes, and yes again!
The youngest of the March trio was born a full dozen years ago on March 10, an especially propitious day because my Uncle Harry (of whom I have written many times) was born on March 9 back in the 19TH century. I remember that as I held this small, compact baby girl for the first time, I thought of the jonquil, which is the March flower. Small, elegant in gold and white, feet planted gamely against March winds… yes, that was our new grand daughter.
Our March daughter in law is the family sculptor—apt for a season full of promise and energy. For Spring is nothing if not imaginative, painting azaleas the color of snow or fire and urging lazy streams to gurgle into life. It torches up Carolina blue skies to make them crackle with lightning yet delicately tints Robin’s eggs blue. What better season for our artist?
And then, there is our older son. Like all families, we spin a long-winded tale about his birth. We speak of how my husband was then stationed with the military in Bangkok, Thailand, and how I joined him when I was seven months pregnant. We describe how we were car-less and lived miles away from the hospital. We relate how, in anticipation of The Day, we borrowed a car which could not go over twenty miles an hour without developing an alarming shimmy. We laugh at how that car rattled and banged and shook on that day, how the gate of the hospital was locked, and how the old gatekeeper had misplaced his keys, and mumbled and clanked and kept us waiting for fifteen stressful minutes!
All of this is family history. We don’t often mention, though, that within the commonly told version of the story is another one that is as miraculous and as sweet as spring itself. This is the story of how, on March 21, 1963, a small and howling baby boy was placed in my arms. With him came a sense of wonder. Here was a new being, unique. He had a headful of dark hair and there was a soft peach-fuzz all over his body. I didn’t need to take inventory to know that he was perfect!
So in this season, while the world gives thanks for the end of winter, our family celebrates three birthdays— each a gift and a thing of wonder. And I marvel anew at the beauty and the mystery of this thing we call life.
Soft rustle of wind,
Gentle murmur of water…
Yes, spring is reborn.
I can always find beautiful poetry on your blog!
You are so kind, Carol! Spring itself is a poem, isn’t it? Today I saw a bluejay taking a bath in a roadside puddle full of cherry blossom petals!
Thanks so much for your thoughts of spring. We also have some birthdays this month. My son Erik was born on the first day of spring which is also a special holiday in Persia. It snowed! This year it was 75 degrees! I told him he had to wait 45 years to get his beautiful day for a baseball game! We always had to change our plans for a spring outing! I can’t believe that it looks more like the end of April this year.
Love the birthday references!
I didn’t know Erik was born on the 21st, too! A happy birthday to your ‘spring baby’! The weather here is very, very odd– everything that should bloom in April is blooming now, and the pollen is sweeping through the land. Everyone is sneezing!
Thanks for the sweet reminder to savor life.
Thank you, Mary! We don’t always stop to savor life, do we? It’s easy in spring, though, because everything is renewing or brand new. I really love the first, almost translucent green of the first leaves… and then, there are the thousand and one bird calls! Marvelous.
Maureen,
Spring fills us with joy beyond measure. Birth and rebirth. Glorious! Thanks for the lovely photograph, poetry, and thoughts. Happy spring days!
Linda A.
I got this late… what a lovely surprise to hear from you! Indeed and indeed, spring is a time for birth and the rebirth of hope. In my yard there is a Yoshino cherry tree we planted for my late aunt. Whenever it blooms, I remember her… and the memories are sweet.
Maureen