This was once our spring.
Spring meant picnics on the grass for lunch.
It meant early evening family walks to the park. It always made dinner later but no one complained.
It meant hunting for blue bonnets. Smelling flowering trees on every corner.
It meant jumping into the pool and feeling kind of guilty when you remembered your midwestern people were still slipping through snow and slush.
Spring was showing off your city to those midwestern visitors, the lucky ones who were able to escape said snow and slush, with a sense of pride because you were parading it around in its very best. Central Texas came alive in the spring and there was no better place in the world to be then right there.
That was spring then. It was heaven. Every year.
And this is now.
Yes it’s snow and slush and the same winter gear clear through April (please let it stop after April!).
But under all of that, I am learning to understand a new spring.
Spring is getting one more chance on the sledding hill.
It is remembering you still have a few more boxes to check off of your winter bucket list. Like movie theatre afternoons and inaugural neighborhood bowling nights.
Spring is another afternoon of hot chocolate and cookies because it’s snowing again and hot chocolate is only good when paired with snow.
Spring is for planning and dreaming. It’s for collecting the plans for summer gardens and new playsets and family adventures.
Spring is for catching those magical “warm” days and smelling the thaw in the air, even if the snow is still piled against your fence.
It is for rain boots every day. And multiple changes of clothes, because who can resist the puddles.
Spring is for digging deep for just a little more resolve knowing that Mother Nature never never lets you down. Summer will always come. And you are much closer to swims in the lake and ice cream in the park and all of the colors beyond white and brown then you were even a month ago.
Spring before was so so good. And no, maybe she’s not so pretty today. And no, I don’t think I will ever be able to love the spring like I did in Texas.
It’s ok to not love your today. It’s ok to admit it’s not where you shine. It’s ok to feel quiet, bland, a tad bit lifeless.
But it’s also ok to learn to embrace a new kind of spring. This is your now. I will learn to love the now. Especially if this now means summer and fall are on my horizon.