Signs of spring have been here for a few weeks–the warm breeze, little white flowers abloom on trees that smell perfectly awful, and the sounds of birds chirping their new songs–but this weekend the knowledge of spring officially arriving put a bounce in my step.
I grabbed the special platter and covered blue and yellow flowers with fresh-baked banana muffins. The sun streamed in through the breakfast windows, and placing the muffins on a plate didn’t seem to fit the occasion.
Spring was here. Actually, it would arrive the next day, but I had my dates mixed up. In my mind, spring was here, and the weather complemented my error. And as I placed each muffin atop another, I thought of my grandmother.
Grandma Ann’s birthday was the first day of spring, or at least, unofficially. Her actual birthday was May 1st, but Grandma decided that she wanted to celebrate her birth on the first day of spring, so every year we did.
I always thought the idea was a little crazy, but, now, as I watch signs of life peeking out from their long slumber, I think one couldn’t choose a more beautiful birthday. And as Grandma brought color and passion with her everywhere she went, the date is rather fitting, too.
Grandma Ann died during the heat of summer, but looking back, I realize her death was perfect. For within days of her passing, I found out that life was growing within me, a gentle reminder that spring always comes.