The Firsts

It is early spring—such a glorious time. Anyone who is in close touch with the natural world (in temperate climates, at least) gets excited as spring comes in. The thrill emanates from deep within our beings. Entrenched in our DNA are countless times that our ancestors successfully negotiated nasty winters, to celebrate the return of life. Hallelujah! Once again we’ve survived the trials of winter and now we greet the New Year.

Many naturalists have expressed the sentiment that our calendar ought to commence with spring. That’s Mother Nature’s inauguration of the year—not that dark, bleak time surrounding the winter solstice that we choose.

What makes spring so exciting, I think, is the string of “firsts” one encounters. The first opening bud on a tree. The first tiny blossom hunkering down close to the ground. The first phoebe call. The first T-shirt warm day. The first tentatively fluttering butterfly. And what adds to the level of excitement is the long wait one endures during those last trying days of winter—day after day of cheerlessness, as you press your metaphorical nose to the window, surveying the monochrome world, wondering if color and life might (please!) come today.

And what adds to our excitement is the knowledge of all the future firsts that these heralds of the New Year signal. We know that soon we’ll taste that first strawberry, pick the first lettuce, and savor that first tender sprig of asparagus. The garden will morph from graveyard to nursery in a few short weeks.

Spring’s pace is difficult to keep up with. One’s emotions become overwhelmed, as all the firsts are encountered so swiftly. I try to allow the mind’s adrenalin to flow freely, however, knowing that this spring fever will pass equally quickly. I don’t want to stand still a minute, lest I miss so much!

Soon the firsts will be behind us. In some cases we will become accustomed to the routine; even becoming slightly jaded by all the seconds, thirds, fourths, and so on. That may be so, but when the abundance comes, I will then be in awe of the fecundity of a meadow of daffodils or a tree full of apples. Bring that abundance on! I will look forward to reveling in the cornucopia of August.