Seasons come and go.
Whether they are based on astronomical, meteorological, or by a calendar.
There is order to our world.
Sometimes we recognize the strength of one over the other.
But today? I’m dealing with our planet and our sun.
Today. The sun is straight up above the equator giving equal light and darkness events for the planet.
I counted this morning. I’ve lived through 70 Spring beginnings. The Vernal Equinox. Equinox simply means “equal nights” and references the equal amount of day and night we enjoy. Above the equator it’s not equally the same between North and South…but it’s pretty close. If you’ve never been above the Arctic Circle you may not understand the long winter darkness, and the endless summer sun.
In 2024, our Spring shows up at 8:06 p.m. on this date, 03/19/24.
We’ll be there in less than 12-hours.
I’ve never been south of the equator, but they are leaving summer behind just as we are leaving winter behind. They march into Fall, and we fall into Spring. This has to do with the way our planet spins and tilts as it marches around the sun.
This morning, I pledge to enjoy the spring. I’ve got trees to plant, a yard that needs refreshed while the rains are here, and general spruce up that must happen before it gets too hot!
Whether you gauge the season by a calendar, or the tilting of our planet, you must agree we all take not of the seasons as they come and go. The hope of another Spring means I must have lived through the previous Summer, Fall, and Winter. Cyclical. Annual events. Every year. Until we breath our life, true, but even without us, these seasons will arrive, depart, and leave us hoping for another trip around the sun.
My yard has few green leaves. It’s not quite time for them to bud forth and unravel at the end of their branch. But soon. Very soon.
From ChatGPT AI…I asked: Write a poem about the first day of spring in the voice of Robert Frost and I receive this poem in 2-seconds!
On the cusp of thaw, when winter’s chill retreats,
And whispers of life stir ‘neath frosted sheets,
I tread the path where thawing earth doth sing,
In the morn of spring, as robins take to wing.
The woods, once hushed in winter’s silent sway,
Now hum with promise on this vernal day.
Each bud, each bloom, a tale of hope reborn,
In nature’s symphony, the season’s horn.
Through fields aglow with daffodils so bright,
I wander, lost in wonder and delight.
For in this fleeting moment, I am free,
To witness spring’s sweet, gentle alchemy.
Oh, to embrace the thaw, to greet the sun,
As winter’s grip at last begins to run.
In every leaf that unfurls, I find my muse,
And in the first day of spring, I am renewed.
Thank you for reading.
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