For almost a decade, I haven’t needed any groundhog’s opinion on the matter: the way I knew that spring was coming was through the lacrosse season.
When you spend long practices out in the cold and rain every night from February to May, the crawl towards warmer weather is palpable—and greatly appreciated.
But this year is turning out to be quite a different experience. Not only am I retired from lacrosse, I’m also living at home rather than on Linfield’s campus. No more rolling out of bed 5 minutes before class, my mornings are filled by a lengthy commute.
Traveling in the early hours of the day—and walking to and from the bus stop—has made me anxious to leave behind the winter gloom. But just as the sun seems to finally rise alongside me, Daylight Savings Time looms, ready to throw my mornings back into darkness (curse you, Windbath Franklin).
And even though I’m not spending them outside running drills in 30° weather, my nights still hold signals of the coming spring, too. Recently, and increasingly loudly, this is what can be heard in my house after the sun sets:
Definitely not something I heard in college housing. The message is loud and clear (heavy-handed pun intended).
The seasons stop for no one. Spring hasn’t quite sprung, and according to Oregon Zoo’s hedgehog (cuter, so probably more reliable than a groundhog, right?) it’ll be another week at least… but it’s springing.
Happy March! ✿