Walk lightly in the spring; Mother Earth is pregnant.
-American Indian Proverb, Kiowa

It's spring. It's finally spring. The earth around me is coming alive at long last. The snow is all melted and washed away from the now week of rain we've had. I wake up and fall asleep to the sound of the seasons changing. Rain, wind, songbirds back from the cold long winter. There's still a bite in the air, but I love it. I feel the sun wrap me tight in it's arms when I step outside, even through the biting wind. Little tinges of green are starting to show in the grass that wasn't frozen under snow all winter. That grass stays green.

I smell it. I smell spring. I can smell the heat change, I can hear the grass and trees twitching alive. I hear the heartbeat of the world starting to beat faster. The birds singing the praises of the newly found warmth. Children laughing and playing outside again, the neighborhood is alive again, even despite the rain.

It's rained a little every day. The clouds are crying for the joy of spring. I'm sure of it. I'm sure that it's what's making the liquid crystals fall, shattering to earth. The warmth, the growth, the return of animals. I feel it in my blood. The itch, the need to feel blades of grass curling themselves over my toes, caressing the soles of my feet, stroking gently over my arms and legs, to be connected again to my mother. To the earth from which I'm born. In that need I know I have taken enough of my ancestors blood in me.

I know I got their desire to be close to the earth. It's something that I was destined to have. My ancestors were gardeners, farmers, wild people. They thrived on earth and growth and sunshine, the rain, the rivers, the green of life. I find myself year after year, loving the fall, the harvest, the beauty.... Struggling emotionally through winter, I've never been good at it, I've never really liked winter. Then this itch, this almost uncontrollable urge to be outdoors, to revel in the new warm sun of springtime. I'm like a five year old little girl again, nervously twitching and giddy, waiting for Santa Claus. Sleep is hard for me, I'm finding myself sitting on the edge of my bed, doing nothing but staring out the window. Watching the trees sway, the birds flying by, watching the clouds. I feel this contentment and at the same time I'm completely restless! I can't sit still! I'm aching for something that's not quite here yet.

A week or more... Just a week or more and the ground will be dry enough and the air warm enough for me to walk barefoot again. I'm yearning for my feet to be where they belong again. On the ground, in the dirt, on the grass. I need to sun baking my skin again. I need these early stages of spring to hurry on by.