This marks my 50th spring season – a full half-century of sensing the rebirth and awakening of the land in Northeastern America. Aaron Copland perfectly rendered an annual approximation of the waking season, culminating in an ancient Quaker tune and resolving in the sonic expression of a world coming alive again.
At the time of this writing, the ground is still frozen, there are still patches of dirty snow, and thick masses of ice shift slowly in the pool. Spring always starts so hesitantly before it deigns to leap. Who can say what fits and starts need to happen before the earth really warms up and thaws out? It’s just waiting to happen, waiting to unfold and unfurl. No need to rush; be mindful of every moment. Be present. Be yourself in every conceivable way.
The lilac brigade is coming… unless the buds were killed under the cruelty of winter. That’s happened before and it’s no joke. After fifty springs, you learn to accept whatever comes.
