Last week, large portions of the North American continent was struggling with the effects of a polar vortex. Updates of the damage caused by extreme cold temperatures seemed to overwhelm every news outlet, overshadowing even coverage of the seemingly never ending pandemic we are all just dealing with.

Then, earlier this week I awoke not to the sound of my alarm but to the raucous noise of birds. It’s still mostly brown and dead looking outside, but spring seems to be on its way. I have to admit that I have loved all the snow we received this year; the blanket of white brightened up what tends to be a dull, drab winter here in West Virginia. Every year I get a bit overexcited at the first signs of spring - I start changing out my thick pullovers for lighter cardigans and pulling my sandals out from the back of the closet; and every year my husband reminds me to pump the brakes because we’re due for at least a few more weeks of chilly temps and there’s always the likelihood of one last snow before Easter rolls around.

It feels like spring this year carries even more promise of renewal than years previous - in addition to everyone’s anticipation of warmer weather, there is the expectation that as vaccination percentages increase, we might actually be able to put the specter of Covid-19 behind us. I’m the least sports-minded person you might ever meet; but when Charleston, WV mayor Amy Shuler Goodwin announced our local baseball team - the WV Power - had joined the Atlantic League and released a 2021schedule I got more than a little excited by the thought of a warm, late spring evening sipping a beer and watching a game. I am near giddy with the thought of attending an outdoor concert - at this point it doesn’t even matter who’s performing. Simply put, I miss the noise and energy of my fellow humans.

My family and I were fortunate to get out of town and spend a weekend at Blackwater Falls State Park this winter - we mostly stayed at our cabin when we weren’t driving around ooh-ing and ahh-ing at all the snow, but the change of scenery was so very needed. I’m guessing we’ll be exploring a few more of our home state’s gorgeous parks where we can get out, breathe, and stretch our legs.

I understand that the mercury’s rise isn’t magical and that it will not erase the malaise and ennui of the past twelve months, but I can’t promise that I won’t do a little dance when I spot my first crocus pointing up out of the ground. Even after I see that first pop of purple, I will continue to wear my mask and wash my hands (it’s no longer a compulsion, just a well-established habit) and wait for the call for my first vaccination jab. Officials are warning folks that letting up on the precautions and protocols now increases the likelihood of a final surge of infections - so keep it up and stay safe.

Hopefully, until I get the chance to hear the crack of the bat, or the squeaks and squeals of an early summer sound check, there will be a few warm and bug-free evenings where I can prop myself up in an Adirondack chair with a great book and a cup of coffee and wait for the things I miss so much to slowly return.