According to the calendar, we’re a long way from spring, but tell that to the plants and the trees, the shrubs and the daffodil bulbs bursting through the mud. Tell it to the robins and blue jays who have returned. Tell it to the tourists who came to town this weekend to enjoy blue skies and balmy temperatures. Tell it to the forest, hushed with anticipation, as Annie and I take our walk on a warm Sunday afternoon.
Tell it to the children who ran around the church hall during our potluck on Friday night, swinging around the poles, shrieking and laughing. Picture them 15 years from now when they’re going to college and getting married and still friends . . .
Tell it to the 27 little kids who went to confession for 
the first time on Saturday in preparation for First Communion at Sacred Heart Church. They approached the confessional with big sighs and exited with fist pumps, going up to the front of the church to light a candle and receive a certificate as I played instrumentals on the piano.
Tell it to me as I feel the urge to clean and plant, to mow the overgrown lawn and start new projects.
Groundhog’s Day hasn’t even happened yet. I know we will probably have more storms. I know that other parts of the country are buried in snow. But I also know that no matter what the calendar says, spring just called and said, “I’m on my way.”
Unleashed in Oregon 