Spring is slowly emerging here in the valley. Butterflies flit about, and it seems that every week, another bird species arrives back in town from its southern wintering spot. The trees and shrubs are greening up or flowering, bright bursts of yellow, pink, white, and green among the still-bare branches of those waiting for more sun and warmer temps to dress in their summer foliage. It rains a lot here, although partial clearings almost every afternoon keep the days from feeling like total washouts. The rivers flow full with threats of floods, and thick snowpacks in the mountains will keep water levels high for months.
This is a different spring than I'm used to. In the Missouri, North Carolina, and DC, everything explodes at once. The tree -lined streets flower early and heavy green pollen coats everything in sight. Those of us with allergies shun the outdoors at all times except right after a rain, the only time the air is free from this assault on our eyes, skin, and sinuses. The world there goes from brown to green seemingly overnight. In Chicago, it is brown for much longer, but the city springs to life quickly when it finally gets around to it. Here in Boise, with our mild, almost snowless winters, spring kicks in over time, piece by piece. You almost don't notice it because you don't really look for it, don't yearn for it. But still, every year when spring rolls around, I feel utterly inspired by it. I feel my heart and soul come to life, full and strong and ready to take on the world. The doldrums of December are long forgotten as the chirping birds signal another season of new beginnings. Spring is a reminder that anything is possible.
