Spring officially began yesterday, but in reality it started days -- maybe weeks -- ago.
With temperatures regularly in the 60s and sometimes even the 70s, yesterday was certainly a mere formality. And with a winter so mild that I saw only two or three days of snow (and since we're talking about seasons, I can't fail to say that one of those snowfalls was actually last autumn by the calendar), it's almost as if there was never really a winter to shoo away. Is this how people in the Carolinas feel? No wonder we northerners like to move there.
Still, there have been signs over the last week or two that spring has arrived, officially or not. The flowering trees are in bloom, the time has changed and I'm leaving my scarf at home more often than I wear it to work. Not only am I trying to choose my route to the subway each morning based on which side of the street is sunniest, but my pace has slackened -- that is, if I'm not running late for the train.
The first weekend of March, Paul and I walked from Times Square south to one of our favorite restaurants in the Lower East Side, a trek of some 3+ miles along Broadway and Houston Street. I wore a scarf and gloves, but it was cozy all the same -- very unwinterlike and a harbinger of a pleasant spring to come.