I love winter…but by the end of it there is a fog of desperation hanging over me that only another soldier of a North East winter could understand. Spring in the Adirondacks generally means mud. And snow. When  other portions of the country are swathed in cherry blossoms and daffodils we are still slipping and slopping our way through the thaw. But now that May is here with warm winds which have dried out the stubborn patches of snow and mud it finally feels like spring. I watched my first spring sunset with feet firmly planted in the sand up to my ankles in frigid lake water last night. It felt amazing. I was also numb from the cold. (But it was the best kind of numb!)

Freshly tilled fields draw birds to feast on the bugs and grubs turned over and the sickly sweet smell of manure reminds me that even the cows have been longing for a break from the barn. Trees burst into green and white fluffy blossoms bedeck every other branch that hasn’t been claimed by shades of pink. In my own garden I have been waiting all winter to see the tulips I planted last fall. Now, everyday another green stalk is growing taller and I’m being rewarded with bright colors where only a short time ago snowbanks stood. Spring is here and I am ready to kick off my shoes, throw on my garden hat and enjoy it! — Tarah

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Tarah’s beautiful words already encompass so much of my own experiences in spring, so I’ll be brief. Spring is the season of my birth, and I always feel most strongly myself in this season. I wake with attentiveness as I listen to the birds sing, I watch as every corner of the world bursts into color, and I feel the warm sun on my face and the moist earth between my fingers as I work in the garden…the world is alive, and I am also alive. — Kelli