Spring, which seemed to have been playing hooky this year, is apparently guilty of nothing more than extreme tardiness. To give you an example of what I am talking about, last Friday (April 22), looked like this:
In 2010, it was almost three weeks earlier when I took this:
But yesterday, the sun came out at the same time I was required to drive 40 minutes down the coast “on assignment.” As I meandered down the two lane highway, I rolled down my windows and drank in a blast of warmth that inspired the stalled forsythia, the early rhododendrons and the Bradford Pear blossoms to vault from their buds. Chatting up seaside restaurant owners for an article, the back of my neck burned under a first exposure to sun. As I write this, the resulting prickle brings a smile to my soul.
We wait for spring, long and hard here in New England. Sometimes winter seems like it will never tuck itself away. We slog through arthritic damp and mind numbing cold long after we expected to have packed wool clothes away. Finally though, when we begin to think it never will, spring appears. This year, it came yesterday, and it looked like this.