The vernal or spring equinox is a happy time of year. I think it's worthy of its own celebration -- no wait, it does have one. But that celebration depends on an arcane calendrical reckoning, related to phases of the moon and other such nonsense, whereas the equinox itself depends solely on the earth's position relative to the sun.
I love being outside at 6 a.m. on the day of the equinox (or 7 a.m. according to Daylight Savings Time) and seeing the sun peek over the horizon, down at the end of the east-west street near our home. It's like my own private celebration of the event that really heralds the beginning of spring. If I ever have a house again, I'm gonna build a Stonehenge in my back yard, with markers for the solstices and the equinoces.
So what if it snows after the equinox? Who cares? The daylight hours are rapidly increasing, the flowers and trees are budding, the birds are back in all their joyful cacophony, and the hills (well, the parts that aren't white) are turning green. It's a time of joyful anticipation, hope, and wild hormones.
Happy vernal equinox, everybody.
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