The Big Melt

The Big Melt

This is a time of year that makes me wish I could slough my skin entire, like a snake, just walk away from that old integument and step out new into the air. Humans thrive on the metaphors of rebirth and regeneration, and the trouble is that they're nearly always only metaphors. But it's the actuality of spring that overwhelms us. Every hour peels back another layer of snow and shrinks the dominion of ice. The ground gives, and the sap streams upward. The finches molt into their mating colors. I walk out among it all and find myself hoping to change with the season, too.
By VERLYN KLINKENBORG