I know that spring in Minnesota always comes on its own terms.
So patiently I stand firmly on shore.
Others choose to take a seat, betting on when the ice will finally go out after one particularly long winter.
90 percent of the slippery stuff needs to melt before an ‘ice out’ is deemed official.
But this morning I do sense some movement.
First inch by inch, now foot by foot, I find us clearly making some progress.
I spot a few sleepy fishermen already in the shallow bay behind me casting into the chilly waters that have recently reappeared.
I also see and hear a boat with a motor off in the distance dancing around the perimeter of the remaining massive ice block.
Perhaps the anxious captain believes that breaking the waves will help the overall ice out effort.
But I remain calm as I do know that all good things come to those who wait.
And I know for sure that I’ve been waiting a very long time.
Winter was particularly ruff for my little handsome man, Rex.
Life in the snow belt is often a cruel and slippery slope.
And this year even more so for a 7 pound pup who hails from Alabama.
Rex is typically a trooper, but the towering ice coated snow drifts were already wearing him down by the time a mid April blizzard hit.
My boy grew anxious, chewing on his dog tags in frustration.
But Rex is doing better now.
He has returned to his cozy loveseat on the sun porch where he naps to the cardinals’ spring serenade each day after breakfast.
Though I do catch an open eye on occasion. Rex remains very focused on the one remaining snowdrift next to our shady garage.
My little watch dog wants to make sure it continues to melt.
For that matter, so do I.
My little friend and I were both up early to celebrate the first day of spring.
Sure, I understand the calendars say it arrived a month ago.
But the residents of Minnesota must have missed the memo.
Up here in the ‘bold north’ we’ve been breaking the kind of records that no one ever wants to break.
For example, surviving the coldest April in recorded history.
And also what definitely seemed like the longest winter of my life.
After last weekend’s blizzard our moods had gone south and were almost as heavy as the snow.
Still by midweek on a walk I’d discovered one beacon of hope atop a light post overlooking a soccer field.
It was a bold and beautiful bald eagle sitting on her favorite nest.
Apparently she’d just returned to the state as she knew spring was finally about to arrive.
I knew it as well today as the sun melted the last of the snow while I walked for hours out in the country.
I guess good things really do come to those who wait.
And I’m not going to miss one single thing.