by: jimmy n. guzmán, m.s., email@example.com
January and February were bitter months in Massachusetts, and every aspect of nature seemed to attest to that fact, and to foreshadow the wondrous spring that we hoped would ensue.
Mild at the start, the winter unfurled a series of storms that each cast its own level of damage upon an earth seemingly unable to withstand any more abuse. Limbs flew off ancestral trees, struck by the dizzying wind gusts that accompanied the snow. The snow itself seemed to swerve like maddening waves in the ocean, snowflakes toppling over one another and then rising, falling, and rising again, until at last it negotiated its descent upon a heap of its own brethren.
The winter’s passage even allowed the formidable sun to act out a significant role in the season’s play. As the melting snow’s silent conspirator, the sun blended its rays with the fibrous white substance, guiding the new liquid towards the ocean where the tides rose, steadily at first and then, with each passing day, faster, and faster. They hurried upwards, then, implying that an abundance of fluid would be accessible to nurture the spring soil.
The passage of winter left an indelible impression on New England’s landscape and our location on Albany Street bore witness to a season unwilling to relinquish its grip on our sense of comfort. While the amount of snow that covered the ground day in and day out appeared formidable, we knew instinctively that the trees that were damaged would recover throughout the growing season, and that the mounting water tables would ultimately descend to nourish the soil, and bring an abundance of new growth.
Throughout the winter, we understood by the snow’s remarkable presence that its disappearance would proclaim the emergence of something greater than itself. With each successive storm we sensed the imminent fruition of a promise that dwelled within every crystallized snowflake, beckoning us to watch, to listen, to wait for the moment when the sun’s light would remain with us longer, and the air would feel crisper. Because at last the equinox has passed. The snow has nearly melted. And, we know, that a spring awakening is upon us.
Already, Marc Hall Design is fielding calls from clients eager to see color outside their homes and businesses. With a final frost expected in late April/early May, we’re eager to decorate exteriors, and bring glory to an environment deserving of botanical beauty. Please call (617) 482–6272 to let us know what your gardening needs are and we’ll be more than happy to assist you with beautifying your space.