Spring

Spring has sprung here, reminding everyone of why we love New England. Growing up, I never appreciated this season of the year. For one thing, Madrid didn't really have a defined Spring season. You had Winter and Summer; Spring and Fall were merely a blur between the two, not heralded by dramatic changes or colors. If anything, most people dreaded springtime because it meant that allergy season, which is terribly strong on the Iberian peninsula, was upon us. Fall was also a let down, for it meant the end of Summer and didn't bring any benefits of its own. But seasons in New England each bring their own joys. Yes, even winter is charming during the first few months; but then it drags on too long and gets exhausting. Which is why Spring is such a relief. It is like finally letting out a long breath that you have been holding in for too long.

The nice thing about living in a place in which snowfall is even common in April is that spring lies in waiting until it can all come at once. In more temperate climates, certain trees or flowers start blooming in late February or early March. The process is staggered throughout the course of several months. In Boston, however, it is physically impossible for anything to really start blooming until late April or early May. So suddenly, from one week to the next, the landscape is transformed from bare and gray to green and colorful. Tulips and daffodils are out in mass; Japanese magnolias and cherry blossoms fill the air with intoxicating smells; the sun is out and I am no longer bundled up in scarves and coats.

And yet, despite the changes around me, my life remains pretty untouched. I am still looking for a better job, I am still teaching at the same place; my routines, my goals, and my personal life are the same. In that way, springtime is a bit deceptive, it seems to herald great change, but it is just another step on the same path. Though, true, the path is no longer covered with snow, which is nice.