Spring has finally started where I live in Montana. Some of the lower elevations have already been experiencing spring, but here in Butte, it takes a little longer. As a Texan transplant that loves to garden, this transition has been one of the hardest for me. I only have a few months to dig in the dirt and watch things grow. My husband and I have recently been in Helena, Missoula and Bozeman, and I admit I’m jealous that they get spring before we do. My trees are finally budding some leaves. A few perennials are finally poking up through the dirt to see if it’s okay to come out. It gives greater meaning to me when I think of old stories about various cultures performing rituals to bring the sun back after it leaves for the winter. When I was in Texas, it didn’t really mean a lot to me. I totally get it now.
I can’t describe the absolute pleasure I feel when I start to see the sun peeking up over the east ridge earlier in the morning (when I’m driving to work). Or how wonderful it is to drive home from work with the sun still shining. I eagerly await those days during the winter, even though my sleep cycle gets confused when it’s still light out at 9 or 10pm.
I laugh a little when I realize it’s in the 90s where I’m from, and I’m getting excited that it’s in the 50s here. Soon, I can plant some annuals. I’m looking forward to it.