After a literal and metaphorical winter, it's good to feel the earth stirring again. The trees are timidly revealing new leaves, and our oaks have begun their annual blizzard of yellow pollen. We've been sleeping with the windows open, roused each morning by the clamor of songbirds. Back home, the tulip fields are in full regalia, though it's too warm for bulbs here.
I can't help but feel a sort of awakening, too--call it hope, or cautious enthusiasm, or a renewing of the will. Whatever its name, it's welcome to stay as long as it likes. I'm done hibernating.