Flying home from Australia ... where it's winter down under ... to Boston where spring has sprung and summer's ever so close ... has been quite a pleasant contrast. While David has dug out the heavy wool blanket and has a heater on to take off the early morning chill, in New England we've got the doors and windows open in the afternoon and we even sip a glass of wine on the deck some evenings in perfect comfort. The days are so much longer and it's easy to wake with the morning sun just after 5am, rather than drag ourselves from bed at 7:30 when it's still quite dark.
I hear a chorus of bird song first thing when I awaken. Songs I've heard my whole life growing up in this area … robins, chickadees, sparrows and bluejays. The turkeys, though certainly not melodic, gobble past the house at dawn and dusk and I look forward to hearing them.
This is a beautiful time of year in New England. The trees are thick and lush, concealing the damage and bareness caused by a rough, long winter. Birch, oak, maple, pine ... all blend in varying shades of green and denseness to form a barrier between the house and the road.
Flowers are bursting, blooming and blossoming in a big way. Shrubs and trees are showy now. How could the local rhododendrons produce any more delicate blossoms than they do? Lin's windowboxes, planted with annuals, are flourishing. The perennials are showing their colors. Purple iris are thick and regal.
I love watching the squirrels and chipmunks race around, clucking constantly as they scurry. With all this new growth comes good eating. No leftover winter stores any more. There's plenty of good things to collect for dinner. I know just how they feel when we get to port after a long voyage and there's fresh, green, crunchy stuff to eat. There are no squirrels in Australia, by the way, but the population of small, unusual marsupials certainly makes up for it.
Though my reason for returning to America was a sad one, the rebirth of life is evident all around me. It's a reassuring cycle and good for the soul.