Is it too soon to declare the start of mud season?
I awoke today to reports from the hill towns of roads being closed due to mud — open to local traffic only. The backyard has become a sponge, swallowing the snow and staining tennis shoes a muddled brown. From South Deerfield to Athol, snow is beating a fast retreat, pushed back by an onslaught of warm weather. Brooks are overflowing their banks, swelled by runoff cascading down the hills, and black bears are emerging from hibernation.
As I write this, the windows in my apartment are wide open, letting blessed fresh air fill the enclosed spaces that have contained me for the last year. Since March 2020, I have been stuck— or so it feels at times— in a self-induced prison, relegated often to the hundreds of feet that contain my home-office, the living room couch and the kitchen table.
I started this column one year ago when the world came to a screeching halt. I recall thinking the first time I noticed that plastic barriers had been installed at the Starbucks in Hadley’s Target that they would be removed in a few months once the coronavirus was under control — they’re still there. I thought I’d only be working from home through the fall, yet here I am.
How naive we were back then.
This has been an incredibly challenging year for so many of our neighbors (economically, physically, psychologically, emotionally). It’s been a rollercoaster of a year and, as spring approaches, it feels like we’re reaching a place of respite.
Science has proven that a vaccine is effective in stemming the spread of the pandemic. Herd immunity through vaccination could occur this year. The air is warm and the birds are chirping.
So, fling open the back door. Skip down the walk. Run through the forest. Rejoice in the solitude of the lone path that snakes its way through conifer groves and along tributaries, perhaps a stone’s throw from your backyard. Stop to notice the crocuses as they push their way through softening ground. Hear the revelry of the red-winged blackbirds, recently returned from their winter migration. Spring will be here in five days.
Andy Castillo is features editor at the Greenfield Recorder. He can be reached at acastillo@recorder.com.