The Slowness of Time

On several occasions I have said how much I enjoy the length of the seasons here in the northwest.  Today as I was hiking through the woods, noticing the tiniest of buds and blooms, I realized that it's not the length of the season, it's the pace.  In California spring approaches and then you are drenched in it.  Here it is all in slow motion.  The season approaches, enters slowly, decides it can stay for a while and then slowly, ever so slowly takes it leave.  

As we begin our farewell to winter, we see spring in the doorway and we open the door a little wider.  The extra light from sunrise to sunset warms the earth and the greening moves from the bottom up.  The mosses and grasses fill in the brown patches of the ground and the trees burst forth in color first and then leaf out.  And as if by some miracle, we wake up and shout out, "It's spring."