It's happening

Right now, all around us.

Spring.

It's deceptively gradual, that shift from winter snow to spring sun and rain. Here in Utah, we go back and forth half a dozen times, but once it happens, the colors arrive almost overnight. Suddenly tulips appear in reds, yellows, purples, and oranges so bright you can't help but crane your neck to get a second glimpse. Lavender and pink blossoms turn bare branches into something out of a Dr. Seuss book. The mountains, still majestically white and purple at the top, develop a creeping green that starts at the base and slowly works upward, overtaking the grayish purple brush and yellowed grass that covers the foothills. Soon all but a thin strip of recently uncovered mountain will be vibrant and verdant.

I love to watch the world come alive again. I love the warmth that emanates from the grass and the smell of dirt. After weeks of cold and wet, it's a promise of longer days and backyard barbecues and coming out of our caves to socialize once again. It means a generosity of time, rather than a burrowing, clutching grasp on daylight. The lonely months of winter will once again be replaced with the community months of summer. The sudden spring of plants, flowers, trees, and sky is hope that we can be renewed, too.