In French, the lovely phrase above is what one uses this time of year. Figuratively, it means that Spring is arriving, or growing, but it literally means "the Spring is pushing," pushing up from the dark place it has slept all year, pushing the fine, bristled seed pods full to bursting. Here in New York I am on spring holiday, and am afforded this time to fully take in the beauty of this time of year.
To be honest, I never appreciated this time of year until I moved East. Growing up, I always thought of this time of year just as the beginning of the hot season I so disdained. Winter, with its mild rains and bright clear frosts was my favourite time of year, and as soon as the thermometer read over 85 degrees--which it did on a good fifth of the days of the year--I just headed inside, away from the sun.
Here in New York the spring has an entirely different meaning, in context with--GASP--other seasons. After several months now of wool coats, thick stockings, layers upon layers of petticoats, my poor fishy-white feet were rewarded today with this:
How wonderful after seeing no grass for months to finally dig your toes into some good, healthy sod. I couldn't help but grin like a fool as I walked about barefoot, shoes in hand, and enjoyed a bounteous dose of vitamin D. Here are the other fruits of my leisure today:
How many wonderful things are "pousse"-ing just now! Don't those daffodil buds just make the winter worthwhile?
I have one more work shift tomorrow morning, and then once again off to Manhattan, where I will buy a paté sandwich and meringues at my favourite French cafe for lunch, and then visit Erin at the photo shoot where she will be working--she is helping me knit my first hat, which has been a rather testy project, but will prove my competence as a knitter if it does not look awful. The weather the way it is, I may just be able to leave my coat at home for the week. :)