Signs of Spring

I ordered my first batch of seeds for the vegetable garden this week, reminding myself that even as March snowfall blankets the ground in a clean layer of white, spring is – eventually – coming. March is notoriously fickle around here, changing from cold and snowy to warm and sunshiny, then back again. All of spring, really, is like that; last year a Memorial Day snowstorm had my flip-flop-wearing kids scrambling to find warm coats and mittens as they ran outside to build a snowman.

This year's buds, last year's leaves, and new snow.

Last week, as the season’s persistent subzero temperatures met us each morning, even my winter-loving children had had enough. “I just want it to be spring,” moaned my daughter, as her siblings agreed. When I reminded my skiing-sledding-shoveling-snow-angel-making kids that they loved winter, my son replied, “But, Mama, I like winter better when it snows.”

Lucky kid got his wish, waking up to a thin layer of snow Tuesday morning, followed by a major storm midweek. He rushed through breakfast and headed outside to shovel before going to school. As I approach the deadline for submitting this column, it’s snowing hard, with a foot or more predicted. That translates to three happy little skiers and a happy ski mom.

Of course, by mid-March, many folks are winter weary and ready for spring. Often, these are the same folks who don’t like winter in any month, and I find their choice of living in New England odd. But I admit there are days, as March stretches toward April, when I, too, long for warmer days and fewer layers of clothing.

This yearning happens to me at the waning of each season. Near the end of summer, I crave the crisp coolness and color of fall. As that color fades to stark brown and grey, I wish for the sparkle of winter’s snow and ice to brighten the landscape – and my psyche. After months of cold and winter white, I happily anticipate the return of color to the landscape.

The animals are ready for spring after a long winter of cold, too. In our field, the deer have returned lately to the old apple orchard, traversing our ski- and snowshoe-packed tracks and scratching through the crust to reach the cold, hard apples that fell last fall. More birds are arriving at the feeder, which during the coldest months is frequented mainly by chickadees and a pair of blue jays. I’m hesitant to refill the feeder now, as I’m sure the bears, too, will emerge from their winter hideouts soon.

Spring here can be a season of strange juxtaposition. Snowbanks piled high from a March storm stand adjacent to mushy mud puddles in the driveway. Leaf buds swell on the tips of tree branches even as icicles drip from the eaves of the house. Snow boots and winter hats mingle with mud boots and ball caps in the front hall. My children these days are likely to ski in the morning, then come home and haul their bicycles out of the garage in the afternoon.

I like to think of these seasonal contrasts as holding the potential for the best of both worlds. Ski in the morning, bike in the afternoon. Roll up sleeves and uncover faces to soak in the first warm sunlight of the year, then tuck into a favorite chair by the fire as the warmth of afternoon fades to the chill of evening. Watch the snow fall, then melt, then fall some more, as we plant the first seeds of spring into pots by the window.

No matter what the weather is outside, these little seeds will sprout and grow, reminding us that spring is – eventually – coming. In the meantime, we’re heading out to play in the snow.

Original content by Meghan McCarthy McPhaul,posted to her Blog: Writings From a Full Life. This essay also appears as Meghan's Close to Home column in the March 14, 2014 edition of the Littleton Record.

Memorial Day ~ Remembering

It’s Memorial Day Weekend, and for many of us that means an extra day off, time spent with friends and family, barbeques and maybe a few beers over the long weekend. Stores will hold “Memorial Day” sales, and the roads to beaches everywhere will be clogged as we head into the long-awaited summer season.

Lest we forget, though, Memorial Day is about the sacrifice made by the more than 1.3 Americans who have died in the wars of our country.

This is the day set aside to remember the men and women throughout United States history who have given their lives in military service so that all of us are free to realize the American ideals that we treasure – and often take for granted – life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness. Freedom to say what we want to when and how we want to say it. Freedom to practice whatever religion we choose – or none at all. Freedom to speak out against and stand up to injustices.

Memorial Day was born from our country’s darkest days. Many communities during the Civil War observed a “Decoration Day,” placing flowers on the graves of the war dead. More Americans – 625,000 – died in that war than in any other, accounting for nearly half of U.S. war fatalities in our country’s history.

The first Memorial Day was proclaimed in May 1868 to honor those who died during the Civil War, with flowers placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers in Arlington National Cemetery. After World War I Memorial Day evolved to commemorate Americans who have died fighting in each of the country’s wars.

It was not until 1971, more than a century after the end of the Civil War and as the United States was reeling from the casualties and social strife of Vietnam, that Memorial Day was officially made a national holiday.

This weekend, flags will be lowered to half-staff. Some towns will hold parades with color guards and marching bands. American flags will be placed at the graves of soldiers all around our country, and flowers will appear on the graves of many, both soldier and civilian, as families and friends remember loved ones.

Military outfits and veterans groups will hold ceremonies to honor their fallen comrades – those from recent conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan, the loss still a fresh scar of pain, as well as the war dead of past generations, reaching to the earliest days of our country.

It is the current members of the military and the veterans who have served before, of course, who fully understand the meaning of Memorial Day, of the sacrifice made for freedom. The veterans have returned from wars, but they leave much on the battlefield or in the war zone, and often they lose friends there. For those who have served and continue to serve, and those who have lost a friend or brother, a son or daughter or spouse, Memorial Day has real meaning.

As for the rest of us, whether we are at the beach, grilling out with friends, shopping, or just relaxing one extra day this weekend – may we pause to remember, to give thanks, and to hope for the day when there are no new names to add to our war memorials.