I will always live where there is a serious winter season to be had.

Not because I love winter, but rather because I love the feeling of having survived it.

 

The giddiness that comes from seeing a stretch of mud, a swath of grass, the earth – after all these weeks.

We are all nothing short of delighted. With mud.

 

Today the snow is melting.

There is a small river running down the driveway and into my garden.

The robins and the bluebirds are back.

 

So we played in the creek.

Soaked our boots.

Delighted in our first taste of watercress.

 

Soon our maple buckets will overflow with sap.

We'll get to work boiling it down, hoping we can keep up with even these few trees.

For now, the frost is still too thick under the ground for the sap to rise.

We'll check again tomorrow.

 

Today we'll be busy with mud kitchens, water wheels, fairy houses, and hunting crystals by the creek.

We'll go out without coats and mittens, even though it's barely above freezing.

We'll come home dirty and wet, with faces sore from smiling.

We'll start our seeds and we'll plan the projects that will fill our spring.

 

We'll delight in the simple magic of the melt.

 

Because for me spring always feels like a gift I am slowly slowly unwrapping, day after day.

And these months of winter were all worth it, if just for this delicious moment.