Let There Be Spring!

It snowed again on Sunday. I wasn't going to mention it. It has seemed sometimes, during this past long, long winter, that the weather is all we talk about anymore. How cold it is. How much it snows. How challenging the conditions are. Sunday's snow may have been the onion snow, or the sapling-bender, or the crack-stuffer; who knows. (Learn more about these colloquial central Pennsylvania expressions here.)

But perhaps more importantly, the Monday after what some of us are sort of hopefully referring to as "the last snow" dawned bright and clear and sunny. The start of what promised to be an absolutely gorgeous spring day. My husband had seen the weather forecast before me; urged me to schedule the day as a vacation day. And so I did. And boy, was I glad!

Come Monday morning, there wasn't much snow left at home from Sunday's weather event. The temperatures were warming up, and the birds were very active. We packed up our daysacks and our chairs and coolers and, with a few pit stops along the way, we made our way to the woods of the Sproul State Forest, located in northern Centre and western Clinton counties. We stopped first for a hearty breakfast at Eat 'n Park, and picked up a pair of hoagies at Bonfatto's (including my very favorite - a tuna hoagie) for later. And with our cooler full of drinks for the day, we were set.

I mentioned, on the drive, that I thought this just might be a day when I would see my first amphibian of the year. But my husband laughed - after yesterday's snow, who would expect to see amphibians? But I still held out hope.

We arrived in the state forest to discover that temperatures there were not as high as what we'd experienced in town. And there wasn't just a skiff of snow on the ground; they had gotten several inches of the white stuff. So we parked the car in a snowy parking lot, packed up our things, and headed out into the wilderness.

Our day's adventures took us on what would turn out to be a six-mile (or 10-kilometer) loop: a hike through the deep forests of Sproul that would feature water, water everywhere! (Thank goodness for Gore-Tex hiking boots! Don't leave home without them.) Our first part of the hike took us to the top of a hill that has in past winters served us as a sledding hill.

"Why didn't we bring our sleds?" my husband asked, as we looked down the steep hill at the several inches of snow that may have provided us with our first, last, and possibly only sledding opportunity of the winter.

But no, we had places to go and things to see (and no sleds). So we walked down that hill and disappeared into the woods, finding the path alternately muddy and snowy. Fresh, clean water was burbling out all over!

We walked down the path through the woods to a big spring we know of. And that's where we set up shop for the next few hours. We set our chairs up, walked over and drank deeply from the spring: cold, crystal clear water, coming right up out of the ground. And of course I walked around and took pictures. Lots of them.

I thought about wading in the water, more just to prove a point than anything else. But in the end, I think it was the snow that lined the creek that may have stopped me; I somehow just couldn't picture my own naked feet walking barefoot through snow to get my first wading experience of the year. And besides, I'd have to take pictures of the whole thing, of course. Including my toes in the water. And my toenails are not polished yet! (Oh, the horror! Plain, pale, colorless, winter toes!) So that delight will need to wait for another day, alas.

From there, we went bush-whacking. That's the term I use when my husband drags me cross-country, usually up a hill through brambles and briars, not using any kind of recognized trail. "It may be a pain in some ways, but I'm sure we'll see some interesting things," my husband said, as I gave him the hairy eyeball (translation: a suspicious and at the same time disapproving look). But I packed up my gear and followed him up the hill and along the stream.

And so what was the first sight we saw on that uphill hike? We rounded the next corner and there, spread out before us, was the lovely little waterfall that you see in this photo. The white on the banks is snow left from the day before's snowstorm. The greens are fresh and shiny. The water is unbelievably clear and cold and clean. When you walk along a stream, it almost seems like you can hear voices of people talking. If I could put words to those voices, they might be saying something like, "Hold onto your heart, girl, for once you've seen the beauties of central Pennsylvania, you will never, ever leave . . . "

We continued our hike up the hill, encountering many small waterfalls as we went. My husband stepped out onto a snowy/icy ledge that looked secure, but gave way beneath his step, almost sending him into the creek. I became the mud girl, wading through shallows with ease, checking the quiet eddies for amphibians, finding none.

And finally we made it back to one of the main paths. There is an old car nearby that I like to visit and I did so on this day, taking many pictures that looked a lot like this one. Except that the car looks worse every year, of course. But that's part of the point, I think: it has become for me a sort of memento mori, a symbol of the transience and impermanence of life.

We spent the last of our afternoon there, overlooking a vernal pool that reflected the greens of the trees and the blue of the sky. And I heaved a sigh, and I said out loud, "You know, I wish for just ONE amphibian on this day. Just ONE." And I stood up, walked over to the water, and hunkered down by it. And found that I was looking right at a wood frog! And so it was that my wish was granted.

But in retrospect, dear reader, the miracle may have been more one of finally seeing. I looked closer and finally saw what was already there. I had not known that the gift was already there waiting for me because I had not been looking close enough. I wonder how often this happens in life? Such are the miracles and gifts of spring . . . (and maybe . . . of life?) Look closer and you shall see them.

But wait! There was more in store on this day! As we walked up the hill with our daysacks, our bodies exhausted from the day's adventures, I saw something black flitter-flutter at the corner of my sight. "Butterfly!" I shouted to my husband; I could hardly believe our luck. "No, it's not," he said. "Oh, yes it is!" I shouted with glee. And I took a few steps closer, and shot about two dozen photos of a rather placid mourning cloak butterfly.

Who could believe it!? Snow! And my first amphibian of the year! And my first butterfly of the year! All on the same day? I am indeed the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world! For I have seen such beautiful, beautiful things . . .

As you might imagine, I took hundreds of photos on this day. My heart was torn: should I show you the gushing crystal streams, with the tiny waterfalls lined with green trees? Or should I show you my frog, that I wished for, and got? Or the fantabulous (and apparently hardy) butterfly that was the one true unexpected surprise on this day? In the end, I picked this photo, but I wished that I could show all three.

So my song to accompany this photo is a nod of the hat to the two who didn't make it to this page: Heart's famous song about Frog and Butterfly. OK, so the title isn't exactly that, but humor me a moment; I can sing Frog instead of Dog if I want, right? :-) Heart, a live performance of Dog and Butterfly. Enjoy!