Sixty miles west of Boston, Massachusetts there is the small New England town of Sturbridge. Located at the junction of I-90 (The Mass Pike), and I-84 it has become known as the "Crossroads of New England". The town was first settled over 300 years ago, and like other small New England towns it has grown just enough over the years to be in a difficult place today. How do we embrace the future without forgetting how we got to our present? How do we attract the right kind of growth, and maintain who we are? And, what about our culture out here in Central Massachusetts?
These pages will cause one to think about how to protect what we have, our future direction, and how to move on in the very best way.
Those thoughts, and other ramblings, will hopefully inspire more thought, conversation, action, and occasionally a smile...
...seems to be working so far
Sunday, March 23, 2008
The World Stirs Again
It's here. It may not feel like it today; it's only 24 f outside as I write this, but Spring is here.
It's not that I don't like Winter, it is a pretty season. A cold season. I hate being cold. I think I just feel cheated with Winter. Days are short, nights are long. I want to tuck my butt into bed at 6PM. The sun does a lot to keep me going. The longer the sun is shining, the more mischief I can get into. My energy level sky rockets with a bit of warm weather, and a cloudless sky.
I'm glad Spring is here again.
Besides the obvious ways of telling it is Spring like the longer days, turning the clocks ahead, and the increase in temperature, there are more subtle things that occur that signal the change in seasons. As the snow melts away, and ground softens the scents outdoors begin to change. You can smell the newly unfrozen dirt, and mud. It's a fresh smell. A comfort smell. It takes me back to when I was a kid playing in the mud after school and making my mother crazy. The soft, gooey edges of puddles became places to test the soles of your shoes for water resistance. Mine always failed.
Tree's and bushes begin to sprout buds. The distant treescape against a hill seems to have a faint green mist over it as the buds grow larger, and eventually burst open into leaves. When my daughter was younger we used to bet on which day in May the trees would be in full foliage. I still play that game in my head. This year I am betting on May 20th.
There are two definitive signs that Spring has overtaken the remnants of Winter. The first is the reimergence of the Spring Peeper tree frog (Pseudacris crucifer, synonym Hyla crucifer). These little guys begin their mating calls during the evenings in March. A soft, rhythmic, distant chirp that announces Spring to those too busy to notice the longer days, and through an open bedroom window can lull you to sleep like nothing else.
The second sure way to know that Spring is here is the arrival of "The Day". The Day is that one special day so different from the 90 or so before it. A warm, sunny day. No breeze, no clouds. A day that lures you to the back steps. A very quiet , soft day. If you listen hard enough you can actually hear the Forsythia budding.
It's all about renewal. Life coming to our corner of the world again. A resurrection.
What better season to define renewal than Spring, and what better day to celebrate resurrection than this day in Spring.