I don't really care what the thermometer says. The calender doesn't really matter, either. Spring is here.
How do I know? Baby cows. There are baby cows in one of the fields that we pass every day on the way to school. We watch for them with anticipation every spring and last week, I just about jumped out of my seat when I saw the first one. And then there were two the next day.
We first noticed the baby cows (yes, I know they're called calves, but we've always called them the baby cows so that's what I'll stick with) two years ago during Jack's first year of preschool. We often see the mothers nursing their babies near the fence on the way to school and, well, I'll just say it . . . it's magical. The car gets silent for a few seconds and then there's a collective "awwwww" every morning.
The last two weeks have been particularly stressful. I needed to see those baby cows last week.
There may be snow in the field, but the baby cows are there, too. Spring is here.