Vermont “spring” always seems like a contradiction in terms. While many communities gleefully report the appearance of buds on trees and emerging landscape greenery, central Vermont must patiently wait out the first weeks of April before bearing witness to any similar phenomena. There are, however, some geographically-specific signs of a more uplifting change in seasons, even if they are far more subtle.

Periodic snow melt across the winter season would certainly not surprise most New Englanders, but this is, in most cases, an all-or-nothing prospect here in central Vermont. Accumulated snow begins to melt en masse around the end of February, and the process continues throughout March. March definitely defies the lion/lamb proverb here–March is, instead, an ongoing battle throughout which winter typically wins, even if the edge of the season is somewhat muted. Snow will still fall, and perhaps in quantity, but it will be wet, heavier snow. Snow melt with routinely freeze into black ice overnight on road surfaces. There may be a few, sunny days at 50 or even 60 degrees, but these are a flash in the pan. Spring is truly on its way when the quantity of snow on the ground is meaningfully reduced to a few larger, grey piles along the sides of houses or in parking lots.

Local chickens offer another, somewhat unexpected sign of spring. I am not a farmer by any stretch of the imagination, but I do know that chickens require a certain amount of daylight hours to produce eggs, and many farms only begin selling fresh eggs in March after a 3- or 4-month hiatus. The reappearance of the “egg box” at local Dog River Farm at this time of year is always anticipated and welcome. And, baby chicks arrive in local hardware stores. around the same time. The local Tractor Supply welcomes what appears to be a 50% bump in visitors, cell phones out, recording the chicks in their metal tubs, gathering around central heating lamps.

For me, a shift to spring also means a changing mentality. Throughout the winter, planning is absolutely necessary to accomplish anything. Supermarkets, with one local (and extremely expensive) exception, are all located about 10 miles away from town, and one must lay out grocery runs against a regular parade of snow showers and snow storms. Long-distance travel is a gamble, and it isn’t usually best to make definitive plans that must occur at a particular time or place. Snow isn’t the only challenge–it is also very, very dark for much of the time. Sleeping through the night is certainly less challenging, as sunlight will not creep in to disturb late morning lie-in. But, one tends to spend only dark hours in one’s home, leaving just as light is breaking for work and returning home at the end of the workday after sunset. I like to take regular walks, and during the winter, I either have to plan on incorporating a walk earlier in the day or commit to carrying a flashlight for a walk after 4pm. Daylight savings marks the end of this pattern at the beginning of March, and by April, the house shades are not ultimately pulled until after 7pm.

As many have noted, this was a particularly cold winter in northern New England and upstate New York, but it did give way to a fairly typical winter-spring transition. Temperatures regulated in March, and the last major snowstorm came and went at the end of February this year. Two days in the 60s early in the month reminded all of what’s to come, but the best we could hope for the remainder of March were temperatures well enough above freezing to ensure that precipitation fell in liquid, rather than frozen, form. One last snow event may come and go this week, and finally, spring, as everyone else understands it, should officially begin here.

The boots can be stored for another season, the snow tires can come off of the cars. The car won’t need to be ritualistically warmed before driving off, and lighter coats can be worn all day. Windows can, and will, be opened. The heat can be turned down, maybe even off.

Then, our buds, our greenery will finally appear.