There’s powerful magic in the air outside at this time of year. I could feel it when I was out walking Pepper on Sunday. The sky was a brilliant blue with just a few white clouds hanging around and I could almost see the sun’s rays touching my bare arms. When I closed my eyes, I could feel the warmth, but I didn’t want to keep my eyes closed long. For years, I’ve been trying to catch what I call “the greening” but it must happen when I blink because I’ve yet to find that moment in time when the world turns green after a long, cold winter.
It’s easy enough to notice the grass, the emerald color darkening until it’s time to start mowing. It’s easy enough to see the briars, their cheeky green grabbing at you when you walk too close. I noticed violets, tossed by the handful onto the lawn. Along with the bright yellow of dandelions, they paint a glorious picture. Deeper into the woods, I can see that the grey limbs of the wintering trees, embarrassed by their nakedness, are blushing red as they wake from their winter sleep. Deep red buds run up and down the limbs, more numerous than the goosebumps on my wind tickled arms. I see all this, but I want to see the greening.
One day soon, when the sun is shining, I’ll be able to see a green haze as I look through the trees. It will remind me of a timid artist, lightly dabbing a paint tinted sponge across the tops of bold strokes of brown, or of Claude Monet giving his impression of spring arriving. I’ve seen this before, and it’s beautiful, but it’s not what I call the greening.
One day soon, I will shut my eyes, and when I look again into the trees and out over the hills, the world will be green. The tree limbs will be lush, so thick with leaves that the forest floor will be darkened. The birds will be just flashes of color, sitting on branches near their nests, camouflaged by the foliage. I’ll no longer be able to see the neighbor’s houses because the leaves of the trees will encase my world.
When I walked my dog today, I wanted to take a few steps beyond normal, so I held out my arms and turned in a circle, spinning until the world was blurry. I haven’t done that since my boys were little but I was hoping for some magic. I wanted stars to fly from my fingertips, and dance across the trees like they do in cartoons. I wanted the leaves to unfurl while I watched but there was no greening today. Maybe while I sleep tonight, it will happen. Maybe, in my dreams, I will witness the miracle that is spring. Or maybe, like always, it will happen when I’m not looking. I’ll enjoy it, regardless.