Signs of Spring

Seasons are still an anomaly for this Southern California girl. Those living by the beach in California, as I did the first 32 years of my life, have only two seasons -- warm and warmer.

In Utah, there are four glorious, breathtaking seasons, each with its own charm and beauty. Winter is sparkling white, crisp and cold. Christmas lights are ubiquitous in December... and at our house through January and February as well. And snowboarding. We can't forget about the snowboarding. #bestsnowonearth

Snow angel

Wilson Ave

Snowman

Sledding

Brighton?

Summer is a grab-it-before-it's-gone, three month whirlwind of hiking and farmer's markets, fireworks and outdoor movies, shaved ice and watermelon, parades and suntans. It's Pioneer Day and Fourth of July, my birthday, Aidan's birthday, summer camp, family vacations, and night games on Wilson Avenue.

Pioneer Day Parade

Summer campout

Summer fishing

Fireworks

Fall in Utah is technicolor leaves and back to school. Fresh haircuts, new teachers, endless possibilities for a good year. Walking down our street with leaves crunching under your feet and Halloween lights signaling shorter days and cooler nights.

Wilson Ave

Grand Tetons in October

But spring, spring trumps them all. Everything I've said up to this point is really just a preamble to my love of spring. Most seasons sneak up on me but not spring. I anticipate spring, and after three Utah springs, I'm beginning to be able to recognize the signs of it. The first sign, of course, is that the snow melts. Then the yellow flowers start poking up and the yellow trees start to bloom. I've learned in Utah, yellow is the first color of spring. I start hearing the birds outside of my window make the "Hee-Who" sound every morning. And, of course, there is my own personal bellwether, my tree. It's the one in front of my window on my sofa perch that is dormant all winter then starts to turn green in March. After green, it turns bright red and slowly fades to vibrant pink, baby pink, and white over the course of spring. In the summer it's green and it goes to brown in the fall. It's my own microcosm of the seasons, and I love it. We often talk about landscaping the front of our house and I am always quick to say, "Just don't touch my tree."

Spring is coming slower this year. I know this because yesterday was Easter, and, last year, my tree looked like this on Easter morning.

Two years ago, my tree looked like this on Easter:

Granted those Easters fell on April 5th and April 20th. This year Easter falls on March 27th, and my tree still looks like this:

First buds

And this year my daughter looks like this: #nonsequitur

Lace! Headbands! Bunnies! Pink cheeks! 

So forget about Punxsutawney Phil. My sign of an early spring is my pink tree in full bloom with birds chirping through my window by April 1st.

After three years, I now know that planting flowers in March is a bad idea. Without fail, it will snow the next day and they'll die. I am comforted knowing that it will not snow in June even if it snows in May. And that if I don't like the weather, not to worry. In an hour it could be completely different.