Signs of Spring

I got an email from Slow Food (I know, you get to hear about ANOTHER email I got!) but this one started out with a message from the president talking about spring in his town in Vermont. He talked about tapping the maple trees and said that you need to boil 40 gallons of sap to get 1 gallon of syrup (and there's your fun fact for the day!). I guess that explains why it's so expensive to buy pure maple syrup! So his email got me thinking about signs of spring that I see. Yesterday felt so springy in Ohio. I had the windows open and the kids were running inside and outside and dragging in dirt to my freshly swept floor, the air smelled fresh, my husband got out the bike the kids got him for Christmas and went on a short bike ride (side note, a $80 bike from Target is not the best buy), we took ALL the kids (there was a bit of an episode when only my oldest got to go with Dad) across the street and let them ride their bikes in the HUGE church parking lot. It felt like spring was truly here and I remembered what it felt like to be outside again. Of all the seasons, spring is actually my least favorite, but there is something about those few spring days when I can best describe it as "hopeful". Winter feels like it's over, summer isn't far away, hopeful.

Some people count on the crocus to tell them spring is here, for some, it's the green stalks of tulips and daffodils, but for my, it's the !@#$% willow tree in my back yard. That tree and I have a love/hate relationship (actually, I'm not really sure of the Tree's feelings for ME, but I can speak to how I feel about The Tree.) If you've ever seen my willow in my back yard, you can't deny that it's a beautiful tree. My kids can hang from the wispy branches and swing like Tarzan. When the wind blows you actually CAN hear it whisper in the willow. However, that !@#$% tree drops branches ALL YEAR! It is the messiest tree EVER! But, you take the good with the bad, and my willow is my season-meter. The earliest signs of spring I see are the teeny tiny yellow buds that start on my willow. I watch it from my kitchen window and as the weather turns warmer, those buds get bigger and bigger, until they're tiny green leaves. It's always encouraging for me as we slide back into gross cold weather after these few warm days to see that my willow is still forging ahead to spring, no matter how it may look outside today. Next thing I know, I'll be sitting with my family watching a summer thunderstorm on the glider in the Florida room counting, seconds between lightening and thunder and hoping no big limbs fall off my willow.