Anymore spring just hits me to my core. 

Every bit of it. 

Watching the deliberate greening of the woods behind our backyard feels like having a front-row seat as a miracle unfolds in slow motion.

How it starts from the bottom and patiently works its way all the way up to the tops of the trees.  

—-

Thursday after work my son and I rode over to the high school track together.

Checking the weather I mentioned to him the rains on the way. 

He asked how long we would go if it started raining. 

“I imagine the question will answer itself,” I said.

On Thursdays a youth fitness program meets at the track. A few adults break the kids into groups, from teenagers down to elementary schoolers, and run them through exercises and drills. 

Was barely a lap in when it started raining. 

The rain picked up speed quicker than me, and soon was coming down pretty good. No thunder or anything, just a hard, heavy shower. 

I checked to see what the coaches would do with the kids. Figured I’d follow their lead. I assume they know more than me. 

It was raining so hard, I fully expected them to call it … maybe take the kids inside the school if not cancel out of an abundance of caution.

But they didn’t.

They proceeded to line ‘em up and on-your-marks’d ‘em. 

Made me smile while my nose dripped.

The rain kept up the whole time we were there, but the heavy part only lasted a few minutes. 

For the remainder … it was just a quintessential Southwestern Pennsylvania spring shower. 

I was glad for the kids … that they got to experience the gift of running in the rain. 

The kid in me was grateful to be reminded, too. 

By which I mean … the question answered itself.

___

Yesterday after work I went back to the track for some easy loops at the end of a long week. 

My running shoes were still soaked from the night before. 

It was pushing 7 p.m. on a Friday … and I was the only one there.

Only human, I mean.  

The track sits below the school, so you walk down a hill to get to it. 

On the grassy slope by the entrance, a robin was posted up … practicing her signature tune.

Robins are so common around here, sometimes I forget how beautifully they sing.

You catch one by herself, though, and God pulls up a chair. 

Her crisp song cut the still air so clearly.

Every time I circled back to where she was practicing, I slowed down and gushed compliments.

It was like being in the front row of an empty amphitheater while the evening’s soprano was dry-running her arias.

If I’da had flowers, I’da laid ‘em at her feet. 

All by herself singing a song she’s sung hundreds of times and singing it new for the first time again.

By which I mean … spring.