A Change in the Weather

Almost since my arrival, we've been vacillating between summer and winter: a week of weather in the 80's hit in mid-April, but we soon sank back into cold, with rain and several frosts. The last frost occurred Sunday night and it sent us scurrying every which way Saturday laying row cover on all of the tender tomatoes, tomatillos, peppers, flowers, and strawberries. Sunday afternoon the wind whipped across our white-sheeted fields and stole the sun from the air. I slept deep within my sleeping bag that night. In the morning, patches of shimmering crystal skated across the corners of the fields as I crunched through the grass. This was unjust, I decided. It's June! Leave us alone, old man winter!

When I woke up this morning, I could tell that something had shifted. The first sign was probably the dawn chorus, which has become so raucous lately that I can scarcely sleep past 5 AM for the trills and chirps and warbles. I didn't really take notice of the change, however, until I had stepped out of my cabin and begun walking up the hill. The warm perfume of summer rose up from the grass, and I knew that we have finally left winter behind. More than visual cues or temperatures, smells have always been my signal that the season is changing, whether to the crisp, leafy smell of fall, or the fresh green scent of spring. This morning, for the first time I noticed the humid aroma of summer.

I woke to certitude: winter has retreated. It is time to grow.