S(tella)PRING

My body has an obvious, outward reaction to changes in temperature and lighting. Even when there is snow on the ground, as there is now, in February, I can smell the springtime hidden underneath it. It’s not something I can properly and sufficiently describe, that smell, but it is real to me; the kind of scent that holds flowers as I would–cupped and careful, the barest hints of a smooth perfume on my palms and fingertips. And I do not let go, as the snow does not, but the smell permeates anyway, and even though it is faint, it is obvious to me, somehow, possibly because I have been the one to look for it. 

And therein lies the answer, I think. I look. I watch and wait and sniff the air every morning with the intent to finally feel when it comes, as it always does. And as I said, when I find it, what I have been searching for, my entire body metamorphizes. My lungs fill, with breath fresh enough to scrape the inside of my throat; my hands lose the crusting, dry skin that the warm air of heaters in wintertime brings me; and my nose receives the best of all–the soft scent of spring's imminent coming, however subtle it might be.

I am looking out of a window as I write this, too. Many windows, large enough to let a mercifully significant amount of sun inside, only slightly diluted by the interference of thick, grey window frames. I’ve moved out of my seat in the middle of the room toward this shine, as moths do, to bask in whatever light I can, and I can feel every particle of my being thank me for it. The smell of new life is apparent even through the brick wall. It is as though I can almost touch the budding tulips and lilies and cherries, almost lay amongst the grasses on our family ranch and feel the sun upon my upturned cheeks. 

That being said, I know that the Groundhog has given us six weeks (I think four, now, as I write this) of winter still to bear. But I know, too, that with every passing moment, the Earth is preparing herself to bloom, and I might only be so lucky to bear witness to such beauty.