The best way to see Spring here in town is on a bike. The last few days of March still might bite with a hint of winter, but the sun shines higher now and a familiar time is once again at hand. These early days are as much about the hope of Spring as they are about the actual time of year. From the bike, riding along with a brisk breeze, you can see how the grass has sprung up overnight. Here the smell of green and growth ripens in the afternoon warmth and rides along the afternoon wind. There’s something about the light and air and smell. Something has changed.
I don’t know if Spring is actually a season here or just a subtle transition to summer. Everything is now linked to summer. That green grass getting taller and slowly drying into July and August seems more pertinent than a breezy Thursday afternoon in late March. So this is more about feeling and remembering more than seeing. Bike rides tend to do that.
Turning on to K street I remember those early days here, wondering what it would be like. Now I know. Now I know what to look forward to. Now I know what to look for. Someday down the line, some morning, the hermit thrush will be singing outside the window, the fields will be full of daisy, and the season will have played over and over again, day-after-day. Summer will be real. Late March on the coast is a time a change and everything seems to look forward now.
Shaken Rain 
We have a loooong spring here in Oly–much longer than summer. The progression of plants blooming and the arrival of migrants stretches out for months. It begins for me when the chorus frogs start singing in February, the days lengthen noticeably around the equinox, the swallows and turkey vultures and black-headed grosbeaks come back as April ends, the apple tree blooms its heart out on a day in mid-May, you know all the migrants are here by the time the willow flycatcher arrives in late June and a Swainson’s thrush sings, we get really restless in June for some warmer days, and then our summer kicks in on July 5th and we can finally wear a t-shirt! Some people like to say the rufous hummingbirds emerge from the salmonberry buds as they open since their timing is so well matched. We are at about that stage now. Early. A promise of wonderful growth and vibrant life. A relief that the really dark, wet, and cold days are mostly behind us for now. but yesterday my coworker reminded me that it snowed her on April 19th last year ;0