Posted by: syncopated1 | March 20, 2012

Sprung

When spring begins to weaken winter’s grasp on the land I’ve always noticed it in simple but significant ways. With each step Spring takes, she finds her feet to the next one faster and faster as her burgeoning self expression becomes a whirling dervish.

Last Monday, on my drive to work, Echo Lake was still capped in that unappealing layer of ice, snow, and slush that had retreated about 25 feet from her shores, glaring despondently at the world as if to say, “It’s me, winter, I tried really hard this year. Really. But I’m throwing in the towel.” Upon noticing this I felt a small spring(!) of hope inside of me suggesting that after the lackluster season maybe we’d have an early Spring?

That Saturday some friends and I hiked six miles on the peaks opposite Echo Lake. We marched a lively step over sun-warmed rocks, under cool damp trees. We crossed swollen streams that gurgled happily as we attempted not to slip on the very slick log bridges the National Parks Service had provided us. Despite my efforts to embolden our little troop by singing the Rick Charette song, “Mud, mud, I love mud!” most skirted around the edges of the many mud puddles and swampy areas that the sudden warm weather after a week of rain had brought. My friend Levi and I spent most of the hike shirtless, and I came away just shy of a sun burn.

Monday morning, once again passing Echo Lake I noticed that not only was the ice gone, but in the radiant light of the early sun, her waters were perfectly still. Beech Mountain on her far shore was so clearly reflected that I could see the fire tower atop her almost as well as when I looked straight at it. Alone on the road that morning I slowed well under the speed limit and marveled. I had time, in the short span of my drive past Echo Lake to notice the reflections of the near shore as well. As the images framed and bound in the refracted sky, they arched toward each other and nearly touched at one point on the shoreline.

That very same day, the shop doors were flung wide open, and the thermostats set to zero, as we beckoned the sunlight into our work space. It’s not quite shorts weather yet, but I did spy the yard mechanic boldly sporting brilliant white legs toward the end of the day today, and the lead carpenter biked to and from work. It’s coming folks, as our lady Spring hastens her dance and works out stiff limbs of winter, I find myself moving in the same tempo and direction. Go slowly first friends, and then gather yourself ever forward and faster.

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Responses

  1. Ahhh, the glory of spring coming to Maine. It’s just not as dramatic in warmer climates. The craving for it not as over-whelming. I’m told, in Sweden, when spring arrives, the ladies go out on the hillsides naked and spread wide open like flowers to the sun.

  2. Spring in Maine! Love it!! Enjoy. 🙂


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