When Aly was 9 days old, we moved into our first house in Juneau. A friend who managed a local moving company brought a container truck by to move our stuff. His parents were there, pitching in alongside mine, and Michelle’s mother. My friend brought along his two-year-old daughter.
At one point I held my newborn daughter, and offered her to his admiration. He smiled and said that babies are cute, but he preferred them at his daughter’s age. As a new father, I was a bit deflated, of course, but in the proper season, I learned what he meant, and ultimately agreed with him. Newborns are ineffably precious, but toddlers are a lot more fun!
I thought about this as April dawned. Spring has advanced from her infancy to the point where her personality begins to assert itself. We have no fire in the woodstove this morning. The sun has returned to warm the cabin before yesterday’s heat has fully dissipated from the logs. A skiff of overnight snow melts away in a warm breeze. Buds swell on the birch, alder, cherry, and willow trees. The garden stirs to life. A spring fragrance permeates the air. Even the piping calls of the marbled murrelets, which have continued throughout the winter, seem to strike a brighter, gladder tone. The sap is rising, within and without.
The season is quickly growing to maturity, in full blown beauty and power, taking us all along with it.