Notes From the First Day of Spring
Spring is in the air as today marks its official start — and it came with a little ray of sunshine, as if the universe knew I needed it. My bare nectarine tree, which looked dead all winter, suddenly decided to show off with a few blossoms. Yes, spring does feel like it brings hope.
The last three months of winter, I basically go into slumber mode. It’s the laziest period of the year for me — the gloomy skies outside seem to match my energy inside. To make winter even more interesting, my heater decided to give up in the final week, as if it had a contract that ended with the season. The cold really gets me every time. But somehow, spring makes even a broken heater feel less cruel. The sun is already working its way back into my bones.
September is also the month I try to shake off the winter blues with the Steptember challenge, something I’ve been doing for eight years now. For those who haven’t heard of it, the challenge is to take ten thousand steps every day while raising money for children with cerebral palsy. Some days the steps feel endless, but it’s worth it — both for my health and for the cause.
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Last night, I also had my first small win with the app I’m building. You might have guessed it, yes, I’m building it with my friend — gen AI. Must be the magic of spring in the air that helped me get through the first big hurdle. Progress always feels sweeter when paired with blossoms outside the window.
Of course, spring isn’t perfect. While it feels like the earth is coming back to life again, there’s also the reminder that reality never quite matches expectation. There’s always an unexpected gloomy day or a sudden downpour. And let’s not forget: pollen. The pollen count is through the roof, allergies are on the rise, and not everyone is out here writing poems about blossoms. But even with its imperfections, spring feels like a beautiful gift.
“No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.” It reminds me that seasons of struggle don’t last, and new beginnings always find their way — sometimes quietly, sometimes messily.
I see spring as a metaphor for our own growth. It’s rarely neat, often inconsistent, and sometimes downright inconvenient. But if we keep believing, if we hang in there through the cold patches, sooner or later new blossoms appear.
