Unless you are a committed astronomer, in which case spring always starts with the equinox, one's choice of a starting date for this beloved season is purely arbitrary. And, as most of us come to realize, conditions dictate a different date from year to year. This year, in central Missouri, I would choose yesterday evening.
After weeks of cold rain, wet snow and overnight temperatures below freezing, we have had several mild days in a row and, yesterday, we enjoyed the first, balmy, spring-like evening of the year. Following a late afternoon high near 60F, a gentle, southerly breeze continued through the evening and high cirrus clouds streaked the pale blue sky. The greenery of spring had spread from the grass to the shrubs, as small, olive bundles tipped the honeysuckle, forsythia and lilac bushes, periwinkle blossoms adorned the ground cover, clusters of daffodils brightened the lawns and our tardy magnolias had begun to bloom.
The mellow call of mourning doves wafted through the neighborhood, male cardinals sang from their perch in the fading sunlight and the homesick tune of white-throated sparrows rose from the thickets. Gray squirrels lounged in the leafless shade trees, gnawing on last year's walnuts, while a red-bellied woodpecker, his crown like a flame in the barren woodland, drummed the end of a dead sycamore limb. Tomorrow will bring summer-like heat and winter has yet to pay its last respects but the tide of spring has finally surged through Columbia.
