This first weekend of spring stirred a buoyant sense of urgency. My husband dashed off for one more weekend on the slopes – melting snow an impending threat to his favorite season.
My son and I chased sun and surf, bee-lining it to the beach, welcoming the raucous chiding of gulls and returning the embrace of warm sea air with upturned faces.
Strolling through shore towns on the boardwalk, we rejoiced in the diversity that central Jersey offers for such revelry. Thirty miles from home, we watched the surf roll in, white sand underfoot, blue sky sandwiching us in between – a perfect spring beach day.
Meanwhile, in the opposite direction – forty miles north of home – my husband was skiing his heart out, white snow beneath his sticks, azure sky atop – a perfect spring ski day.
We thought about that – him on the slopes and us on the beach, and our good fortune to be in easy reach of both options.
The ephemeral nature of seasons on the east coast amplifies their value, giving reason to covet the intervals we love best. When set in your favored one, it never seems quite long enough.
But, that’s part of the appeal.
And when it comes around again –
You gotta love it.