You know when that first glimpse of spring peeks around the corner, almost simply to let us all know that it exists, it’s coming. I love that day.  Growing up in Minnesota, everyone seemed to fly first to their closets, pulling out all their summer clothes, chucking their wool sweaters to the back of their shelves.  I remember what it was like to be a kiddo on those days. Running up and down the hills and edges of streets, to the park, and the fields. Everything was wet and muddy, piles of snow still lined the edges of the grass.  But it didn’t matter, the sun was out and it was warm.  Shorts and t-shirts were tossed on and fingers were pink and purple from playing with the melty snow that traveled down the streets.  I remember always wanting to walk everywhere on those days, run everywhere, stay outside until the last ray of sun went down. The best way to wake up, when the birds actually proved they were alive.  

In all honesty, I think this happens with the beginning of most seasons.  Maybe not the excitement for everyone, but from a child’s perspective, newness is so exciting.  It is the best part of the day. Something as simple and as expected as winter melting to spring is such a blast of change for little nuggets.  

Sometimes I think that seasons are exactly what our hearts need to lurch forward out of a stagnant state.  To put on new clothes, new shoes. To set foot on ground that is mushy and soft. Change brings this spirit of lightness, playfulness, energy.  Like all of the oldness just soaks into the ground or is covered by frost, a blanket of fresh casts its wings over towns, sets people to dreaming with lightened eyes.