vernal equinox is coming right at me

Something wakes, stirred by vague warmth or lingering sunlight. I love that we know something about it, but mostly it's still part of the immense mystery, that eternal why that constantly escapes my lips. But somewhere out there xylem is waking up, and phloem is waking up, and vascular cambium is waking up, and cotyledons are waking up, and surely all that noise will begin to wake up the various larvae and instars and what-have-you out there in the soil, and before you know it, the cacophany of growth will have its way. Feeding will begin, and then everyone and everything will be in a big rush to attract pollinators or find mates and reproduce because there are no guarantees - there have been years without spring, certainly, when the earth belched up such quantities of itself so as to snuff out the life-giving sunlight.

I love spring. Can you tell? Some days I can stand outside and see the thick stuff of life wafting through the air - how many different pollens? - and realize that I am surrounded by lust, by an uncontrollable yearning and drive for union and creation. It's hardly possible to be unaffected by such a sight. Spring was already underway in Port Townsend in early March. All the trees were flowering, the daffodils were actually beginning to decline, and the bees were out foraging. So I've missed that for this year, but it looks like I'll be able to enjoy it here. Yesterday I saw the box elder bugs huddled around the garage door, basking in the warmth of the sun. There were some other flying insects about which probably overwintered in the soil as adults. The deer ticks are already making their preparations for this year's brood. There's a lot of green outside my window, but most of it is moss or pine or cedar or greenbriar. I don't know what to expect after such a mild winter, though the daylilies are peeking, and the crocus, and the rudbeckia outside the kitchen door. Soon the hostas will send up their pointy shoots, and by then we'll begin to watch for the hummingbirds.

No matter how long winter feels, no matter how dark the days, how cold the winds, how deep the snow, how brutal - spring eventually arrives, one way or another. And with every spring, there's just no stopping life's longing for itself.