Spring is a season so different based on where you are. Up here, spring is the long wait for the snow to melt and the world to dry out and explode in a burst of blue and green and brown.
I’m on the road today, actually coming off of my little peninsula and down to another town for work. What’s so fascinating about these drives is how much the snowfall varies from place to place. Our peninsula gets a whole lot of lake-effect snow off of Lake Superior, but further inland that drops off quite a bit.
Either way, though, spring is very late in arriving here. I thought this article was going to be about the first signs of spring in the air, but honestly, we’ve had to few that they aren’t worth talking about. I think by the end of the week we’re supposed to see temperatures a few degrees above freezing. Then the melt can begin.
I’ve lived in a bunch of places, and spring is usually a beautiful season. Every shade of green you can think of bursting forth from ground or branch or limb. That’s not quite what we get here, though. Here we have a long wait for all of the snow to not only go away, but then dry out the ground. We’re coming into mud season.
That means I’ll spend most of the early spring days on my road bike or at the shore (where it’s plenty wet anyway!). Before green and brown become a quilt of paradise as far as the eye can see, it will be the blue of the sky and the water that says, yes, life is coming back.
We’ll get there, too, one melted icicle, one cleared street, one bare roof at a time. Winter is that time to pause and huddle, to look inward and to see the world frozen in time. Now it is thawing, cracking like the lake itself, and all of our possibilities float out there for us to clutch and capture and hold onto until our dying days.
Words and photos by Kevin Hodur. Previously calling suburban Chicago and Portland home, Kevin now lives and works as a writer on Upper Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula. Catch more editions of The Road Rarely Traveled with next month’s Colour Explosion!, a few words and images stolen from the world awakening and stretching from the long, frozen, introspective slumber.