In like a lion and out like a lamb.
he energy built in the air, silent and deafening all at once. If you weren’t listening it might just pass you by, but if you knew the signs it was as loud as a siren. The siren song of Spring. A season which is by no means a sure thing in March, especially in Chicago, has a reputation; In like a lion and out like a lamb. However, it arrives far before the roar of storm or the bluster of a breeze. It is the return of a bird song, hidden still, even though the branches are bare. The gentle breath imbued in the air, when the gentlest of winds brushes against bare skin and feel pleasant again. The subtle change of moisture in the air while boughs hang heavy, laden under the weight of a snow now reminded of its mortality; becoming moist and dense. The soil thaws, somehow moist without rain and small animals return to the periphery of your vision. None of these changes enter with a roar, yet here they are, and it seem like Spring.
Just wait until Winter catches wind of what’s happening. A wild stiff winter gust, cold and northern, billows down. Blowing and biting as it bitterly and desperately tries to maintain its hold on the season. Alas for it though, Winter’s spell is broken, its grasp weakens, and embraces fades. For the next few week it will wither and wane in its power until, with a roar the triumphant lion of Spring arrives. Its verdant cohort of green replacing the drab grey, with buds and birds, blades of grass and the groan of branches. With force it established its dominion over the realm and only then, once its power asserted and control assured, can it rest. Then on a warm Sunday in May, speckled with sun and warmth, peppered with the bloom of a rainbow, petals swaying, it retires and passes it power peacefully to Summer. Sleepy now, and content to rest.
Photos taken in Chicago, IL