But April is a close second. Even before the April birth of my daughter 17 years ago, April had a special place in my calendar book. It stands as my bridge from winter to spring. My journey across that bridge actually begins on the first day of winter, that astronomical mark where the sun sets incrementally later each evening. The next step is the vernal equinox, the official arrival of spring in the teeth of unforgiving March.
Crocuses break out of a thawing earth.
Easter pastels replace earth tones. The green of the Fenway Park grass is deep and rich with the promise of another baseball season. It is a month to resurrect the spirit, in the vein of Easter. It is a month when nature renews the landscape as life replaces dormancy. It is a month to replace the attitude chilled by Arctic fronts with an attitude warmed by southerly flows.