Vernal equinox - the first day of spring!

Wednesday, my official day to remind myself I’m retired, happened to be the vernal equinox, the day when daylight catches up with dark and we officially move toward summer. So, in honor of the synchrony of those two events, I decided to chronicle the day, see what the first day of spring looked like in 2013. I actually didn’t go anyplace fancy, but I kept my camera handy as I went. Here’s what I saw:

Frost crystals as I stepped out the door …

… right above daffodils, with their bright green promise of springtime flowers.

Perfect. Thus began the first day of spring—with reminders of winter not yet past, side-by-side with hints of imminent spring.

I headed for the Mesa Trailhead, always a favorite outing. (I’ve posted pictures of wildflowers taken on walks here before.) The drive to my destination took me past views of the high peaks, still covered in snow—although far less than we’d wish. It looks like another dry summer ahead, with forest fires already started in the hills.

I was reminded of the fire threat as I arrived at the trailhead

And then, just beyond this sign were icy reminders that it this is just the very edge of spring, and winter hasn’t really left (snow forecast for the weekend—and that’s a good thing!).

           

The walk along one of several trails here revealed lingering signs of winter mixed with harbingers of spring, like spots of snow on the nearby hills behind a (very slightly) greening meadow ...

... and a gorgeous sky that could have been any time of year.

The residue of last summer’s flowers and tracks in what must have been a muddy trail during the winter recalled the months just past …

              

       

… and lucky glimpses of gifts that only winter reveals, things unseen in the summer—a bird’s nest tucked in the branches of a small tree, and a red sandstone rock covered with soft sage-colored lichen and draped by a scrub oak, both of which would be invisible behind summer growth.

                        

As I headed up the hill, watching for hints of green to prove this was the first day of spring, I noticed instead the incredible dryness. This part of Colorado is always sort of dun colored this time of year, but these plants are bone dry, brittle from the lack of moisture. Looking back downhill, the valley below me told the same story ... in a different shade—the difference between early morning sun and mid-day light with the clouds moving in.

              

But back near the trailhead, the ice had thawed from the stream, which looks really low, but at least it's water!

I headed back to town to resume my (quasi-retired) life. I went to my favorite local coffee shop ...

... where I got a large cup of micro-roast coffee and a jar of water, and set up shop for an afternoon's work editing documents.  

Since I enjoy my work and love this coffee shop, with all it's openness and light, it seemed a fine way to wrap up a spring day.

I may have mentioned before that I love Colorado, and one of the things I love most is the change of seasons. Soon, the wildflowers will be out, and the trees and bushes that look so dead now will be full of birds. In fact, I heard towhees as I walked, and I spotted jays, robins, and a few juncos. On behalf of all of them, visible and seen, silent and starting their spring songs, this little guy showed up on a high branch of a bare old cottonwood near the trail, singing his tiny heart out. (This is not a puzzle. Look carefully ... he's really there!) 

He sends spring greetings to you all.