I can’t believe the mild winter and seemingly early spring we’ve experienced in Chicago this year. Up until this winter, we’ve had increasing amounts of snow, culminating in last winter’s February 1 blizzard. I was talking to a friend at work recently about this amazing weather. I brought up the power of “the promise of spring.” The anticipation and excitement of warmth and sun. Rebirth, really.

There’s a walk I like to take when the weather is decent. It’s not even mid-March yet and I’ve been able to enjoy it half a dozen times already. It hasn’t been particularly pretty–since all the flora is still confused as to what is going on, but it’s been so nice to get out and walk around the neighborhood. It’s an old friend of a route I’ve taken for several years, and it’s good to see its contours, textures and landmarks. but never often than last year.

I’d never taken this walk as many times as I did last year. It can be mindless, filled with music in my ears, or it can be a thoughtful one where I work out ideas for blogs or stories or work. But as spring approaches on recent walks I can’t help seeing things within the framework of the cycle of life and rebirth; promise and hope. These walks act like a sieve of sorts, shaking out the bad–sometimes the sad–and putting a spotlight for the gratitude I feel. For everything I have had and still have.

Telltale signs of spring:

1.) Little colorful buds are poking out of the ground.

2.) Bicycle tires are getting inflated to the proper PSI:

3.) And sidewalk chalk has been busted out.