Falling in Love with a Season

I have come to associate Europe with the cold, the wet and the thickest coats for the weather has not deviated from frozen temperatures and constant drizzle since I've arrived. Next week marks the final days of winter and the start of my very first spring. I have been scrutinizing the trees, hoping to one day find new life on its branches. The weather has been getting steadily warmer and I spend my days out in the park expectant, anticipating the first trace of green.

And yet, despite the constant 50 degree weather (believe me, I would never before consider this to be warm) there has been no progress in the organic life around me. The landscape is still skeletal and I end each day with a mixed sense of disappointment and anticipation. "Perhaps tomorrow," I say, knowing full well that true growth takes time.

But... it must begin growing at some point, right?

It's this exact thought that prompts me to look closer, examine deeper. The branches that appear dead and gray reflect light at their tips in a peculiar way. Although not green, it is definitely something.

And before my eyes, the world changes. Buds so fresh and so there that it's a wonder I hadn't seen it before. Suddenly, it's not just the trees that are growing, but the bushes and the grass as well. The peculiar thing is that they are not so much green as they are... sparkly.  It made no sense at first until I realized that the waxy coat and spherical shape of the new growth reflects light in a way that bark and dirt never could. The contrasting result is magical. The act of the world rebirthing itself is so omnipotent, and yet so invisible that if you hold it to standard expectations you would never see it at all. Look closely next time, watch how the world glitters.

I have never been more in love with a season.