This year, January and February were the coldest months I could recall for a number of years. March was a roller-coaster, weather-wise, as it normally is, though I saw piles of snow and ice, reminders of the previous two months, almost until the Spring equinox.
Some people want the memory of such a winter erased, quickly and thoroughly. They want Spring to literally spring straight into summer. Me, I enjoy seeing the season unfold. Cycling allows that: One day, I see cherry blossom,magnolia and crabapple petals folded into each other: Are they hands holding the life they’re trying to protect, one not quite ready to come out to the world? Or are they begging, pleading, praying for a respite from the harshness of the season that might not be finished?
A day later, I see those same trees—or other cherry blossoms, magnolias and crabapples—with petals opened ever so slightly, as if they want to be sure that raindrop isn’t too cold or that ray of sunshine too strong to catch. The day after, they open still a bit more and are starting to flower.
And there is the sunshine of this time of year: clear, without the sharp edges of winter or summer’s haze. As much as I love it, I still can’t decide whether I prefer to see buds throbbing open and pulsating their colors reflected in the sun’s rays, or defiantly displaying their hues against an overcast sky, just ahead of a Spring rainstorm.
I love the seasons I experience on my bicycle.
