every year i try to pinpoint the exact day when spring begins. i do recognize the actual futility of this exercise, the seasons being a cycle, a gradual blending of hues, without a finite beginning or end. but nonetheless i always find myself mentally marking the days when certain events occur. it’s like i wait and wait and wait for some sign of spring, through the cold dreary days of february and march, and sometimes april, and then it happens all at once, and i can’t watch closely enough to see all the changes, things seem to spring out of the earth and bloom while you have your back turned. in chicago this year, the trees began to come out late on monday. by tuesday they had developed a green haze, a softening of the stark lines winter branches make against the sky. the tulips came out on wednesday afternoon, bent low and ruffled under an afternoon breeze. other signs slip past me and only register later. i didn’t notice when the grass started turning green again, until suddenly last week, the world had a slightly emerald hue to it. and the daffodils, which are in full bloom right now, they snuck past me too, i don’t recall what day they first arrived, but suddenly there are fields of yellow on either side of south lake shore drive.

but my favorite sign of spring is one that i can mark on my calendar, when daylight savings time switches over and we are graced with long, golden evenings that seem much more than just one hour longer. maybe someday i’ll have to become one of those nomadic retirees who follows the warm weather around, bouncing between hemispheres to always stay within the bounds of summer.