I was wary of greeting the arrival of Spring this weekend. I mentioned last week that Spring arrives here infallibly on the last weekend of March each year; but I wasn't sure about the status of next weekend, since it straddles March and April. How would that affect the rule-of-thumb I've developed over these last four years here? Would it be tempting Fate to express the hope that Spring might show up on the last full weekend of March? I feared it would.
It seems I was being too pessimistic. I don't know quite what it is, but when Spring comes here, you know. We've had plenty of sunny days over the last month, but somehow they just didn't feel like it; there was always the lingering sensation that more chilly days might be lying in wait for us, and so there were. This time - this time it's for real. The sky may not be any bluer than it's been before, the sunshine may not be any warmer; but there's something, something in the air that reassures us the chilly days are gone now.
The trees sense it. In the past few days, they have put forth their blossoms as one, exhaling their fragrance into the air like a huge collective sigh of relief - after so many false starts and frost-nipped buds.
This is a very fine city when the skies are clear and the sun shines. It doesn't happen nearly often enough, but we are grateful for it when it does - especially after months of grey and gloom.
And everywhere today, I see people smiling. That doesn't happen nearly often enough either.
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