“One swallow does not make a summer, but one skein of geese, cleaving the murk of March thaw, is the Spring.”
I awake from my slumber to a freezing cold room and peek through the blinds. It is 7am on a Thursday, and I do not have class for another two and a half hours. Now I have to make the decision of getting up and facing the cold or going back to sleep for another hour. I decide it is not worth the extra sleep because it is a beautiful crisp morning. I want to go to Blunn Creek this morning and hike before my first class. I head out of dorm hall and tip toe across the grass. It was very cold last night and still is so the morning dew crackles under my feet, and brings me back to eating rice crispies as a child.
I laugh a little at this observation and continue on my way toward the preserve. I have walked this way so many times, and yet every time I see something different. The sun is just starting to rise where I can see it as I crest the top of the hill. This new morning light sheds pinks and crème colors around the sky. The grass starts to crackle less as I walk on it and the thin layer of ice starts to recede in to trickling pools with the coming of the day.
I reach the entrance to the preserve and head inside bundled in my sweater and coat knowing it will be a cold climb to the top of the ridge and to the volcano at the top. I have come to make this spot by the tree my blogging home, and am eager to get to it as soon as I can. I want to see the sun come up over the roof of St. Edwards, but I fear I will be too late.
By the time I reach the top of the ridge passing my favorite tree on the way the sun is already slightly past the tops of the spires. It winks around the building as if to mock my defeat. I sit down on a rock near the top to survey the area and focus in on the change from day to night. The frozen dew that hangs in the trees starts to drip as it melts wetting the ground below. This is a transition from day to night I have never seen. The world seems washed in newness as the night melts and the day takes over. I sit watching the change for what feels like a few more minutes. I check my watch and see it is 9am! I have class in 30 minutes so I sadly must cut my hike shorter than I had expected.
I walk briskly down the slope and to the road. I miss the crackle of the grass under my feet. The sun has stolen the night’s icy tendrils from the leaves and now only a wet and sticky mess is left. I walk through the same field that once held such a morning symphony of cracks and pops to only wet grass being stuck to me and mud caking my boots.
My favorite tree in the preserve.