Spring Symphony

I think it was sometime around the first of April when I caught myself wondering why in god's name I ever moved back to upstate New York. It was early, around 7 a.m., and I'd gotten up to let the dog out. When I went into the kitchen and looked out the window, I burst out crying. It was snowing again.

I like snow, I do. In fact, people who know me would probably call me a snow person if their options were 1) she loves the beach; 2) it can't be sunny enough; 3) the hotter the better; 4) snow person. Still, everyone has their breaking point. So yeah, I've been wondering what dark moment it was that I decided to head north, knowing the weather situation up here in the winter. Two months of snow is perfect. Three is okay. Four, you're pushing it. Six? Time to call U-Haul.

Then yesterday I took a drive.

It's the end of May, a whisper from June, and it was One Of Those Days. Sunny yes, but so much more. 75 degrees and low humidity. Puffy clouds drifting. Green lawns, green trees, green fields -- that splendid not-dark green of spring that's maybe got a week of life left. Miles of pink flowers chasing each other in meadows, geometric shapes flanked by yellow blossoms. The smell in the air? Freshly-mown grass and a final whiff of lilac. Men on tractors, kids' smiling faces, canine ears flapping out of car windows.

And a tiny voice in my head said, "oh. that's why."

What's that old saying? I'd rather have two minutes of something wonderful than a lifetime of nothing in particular. That one was written for upstate New York weather. Such days around here don't come often and they don't stay long; but if you can catch them, if you're lucky enough to be outside paying attention, days like yesterday are one of maybe four all year, those that usher in summer and fall and winter and spring; 24 hours four days a year when Nature says come look at me. Come see what I can do.

Such days (okay, maybe they're worth the wait) ... a spectacular symphony for the senses.