On being ... a time of change

 By Ingrid Sapona 

I aim for a title I hope gets readers thinking about what the column might be about before they read it. I wonder what came to your mind when you saw today’s title? 

Based on recent my conversations, it’s clear that we’re living through a time of significant change. Indeed, the topic was even mentioned in an e-newsletter I got from an organization I follow professionally. They were introducing a new method they’ve developed and, in explaining their rationale for it, they said, ‘during a time of change, what hasn’t changed is our members’ ambition’. Of course, they were referring to political change, which I’m often overwhelmed by these days. Given this feeling, I thought it might be helpful focus on a change that makes me happy: the change from winter to spring. 

I was talking to a friend about the weather last week. Though it was still unseasonably cool, we agreed about having seen the last of the snow, so spring is nigh. My friend added, however, that in her books it’s not spring until she sees her first red-breasted robin. (I didn’t tell her that I had already seen a few.) 

That got me thinking about the different markers of spring. For my mother, it was the bright yellow blooms of forsythia. We had a little forsythia bush at the corner of our house and every year, as soon as buds appeared on it, she’d snip off some branches and put them in a little vase. Then, as more and more yellow blooms appeared, her smile grew. And, if we were out somewhere and happened to see a bush in bloom, she pointed it out and commented about how beautiful it was. 

Growing up, I never really saw the beauty she saw in forsythia. Then, one year in my 20s, I happened to be in Stuttgart, her home town, in spring. There they use forsythia as hedges. So, in spring, around every bend in the road you’re greeted with a wall of yellow. It’s quite spectacular. After that, I understood why Mom looked forward to forsythia – it reminded her of spring in Stuttgart.

There are a number of things that signify spring to me. The very first thing I notice is the sound of birds chirping. I often open my balcony doors early in the morning and come March, it’s hard not to notice the nonstop chirping. I don’t know if the birds are scoping out mates, or revitalizing their nests, or just catching up after a long winter – but it’s really delightful to hear. And, as the birds swing into full throat, earthworms and snails begin shimmying across sidewalks. Dewy mornings always require a bit of extra care to avoid unwanted crunching under foot.

As for what I look forward to most in spring, the answer is simple: daffodils. Here, the first flowers to peak out are things like crocuses, snowdrops, and violets. It doesn’t seem to take much warmth for them to poke their little heads out – just a few frost-free days in a row. But those little guys are unreliable bellwethers because it’s not at all unusual to have snow after they’ve already popped. Daffs, on the other hand, hold back a bit before they show off. I love seeing their closed little arrowhead-like bundle shoot up. Then, when the time is right, they give a little graceful downward nod and open up, showing off their delicate, ruffly face. 

For some, spring has officially arrived when different flowering trees are in bloom. Here in Toronto, we have an abundance of cherry trees in High Park and a few other places. Torontonians keen for a selfie among the blossoms await updates regarding when they are expected to peak. (Mind you, I think such reports from the parks department are as much about crowd control as they are about celebrating the arrival of the blossoms.) I suppose if you grew up where magnolias or dogwoods thrive, those are spring shows you look forward to. 

For others, spring begins with certain rituals, like launching boats. The chores leading up to the physical launch – boat washing, waxing, bottom painting, etc. – don’t necessarily mean spring because most years it seems you’re doing them in winter coats. But once the boat is in the water – hello spring (and hurry up summer)! Opening up the cottage is another very Canadian sign of spring. I’ve not experienced it first hand but from what I hear, it involves a lot of schlepping and cleaning, but usually ends with a cookout and beer. Another sign of spring around here is pothole repair. Though the end result is welcome, random lane closures to facilitate it are not so pleasing. 

Given all the changes happening in the world, it may see silly to talk about getting joy from the emergence of spring. But, focusing on positive changes – even anodyne ones – helps me cope with the notion of change. I hope the changes spring brings to your life are all welcome. 

© 2025 Ingrid Sapona