We stared out at the snow on the fields yesterday morning, and determined that homeschooling needed to be temporarily suspended in order to force spring. This year, she is like a reluctant bulb, resisting our need for her to flower.

 

And so Saoirse and Ula packed a backpack with a picnic, and we shuttled out the door in defiance of the weather, willing the sun to warm our backs. proclaiming that spring was here, even if she was hiding.

 

I walk this road every day, and I do notice the change of the seasons, but these girls have a way of pushing the changes to the fore, of developing such fascination with the simplest changes, that spring could not help but feel coaxed along with their admiration, care, and respect. They picked up the litter strewn along the road,

 

 

marveled at the glorious color of her branches as they burst into bud, admired the new stones she’d unveiled after winter’s frost heaves had kicked them from the soil, made playgrounds of the slopes and ledges she’d freshly melted away from the snow. They even found a sunny rock in which to make a mud season picnic, to encourage her continued renewal.

 

 

 

And darn if spring didn’t oblige. It was freezing when we walked out the door. By the time we made it up the last stretch of the road, it was warm enough to continue home barefoot.