renascent.

[ri-nas–uh nt, –ney-suh nt]

adjective

1. being reborn; springing again into being or vigor.

The warmth of the first day of spring feels renascent and Pal can feel the vigor as much as I can. There’s a pep in his step that increases my pep exponentially. I shed layers maybe prematurely because the breeze is still cool. My skin soaks up the warmth of the sun. Spring. Pal walks along on the snowshoe trail, stopping only to gaze longingly at the dogs running free.

“That will be you as soon as you listen on my first command,” I don’t have to lean down to pet his head. “If I say ‘come’ and you ‘come’, I will let you run free like those lucky dogs.”

He doesn’t respond and we walk along.

I love the obvious change in seasons here. I think it’s even better than New Year’s resolutions. Hobbies change, perspectives shift, and the trees watch it all and bloom under the extended sunlight. Windows are rolled down. People bring out their lawn chairs to utilize the lawn again. It’s as if you get the excitement of moving to a new place without having to rent a U-Haul. Fly fishing and mountain biking and hiking without post-holing in the snow. Pal is stoked. After our hike, I tie his leash to a long rope and then wrap it around the tree in my front yard, giving him more freedom he’s had in a month.

This is where he chooses to sit:

I lean into him and say, “Had I not loved you before, this would’ve been the moment I would have fallen in love with you.”

And this what a giant polar bear looks like by a fire:

May your skin soak up an abundance of sunshine, may your step be pepped, and may spring be one full of vigor and rebirth for you, friends.