Ah Spring: A Season That Arrives When It Feels Like It

A Poem From the Past

Every now and then, a memory from childhood pops up and refuses to leave. Recently, I found myself thinking about a play we did in school — a bunch of hillbillies, a lot of flannel, and one truly unforgettable poem. It went something like this:

Spring has sprung,  
The skunks air out.  
Spring has sprung — just sniff about.  
Mating time is drawing near,  
You can smell it in the air.

Not exactly Shakespeare, but it captured something very real about spring in New England: you don’t need a calendar to tell you it’s coming. Your nose will do the job just fine.

The Calendar Says Spring… But New England Has Other Plans

Technically — officially — scientifically — spring begins on March 20 this year. The equinox arrives, the sun crosses the celestial equator, and somewhere far away, flowers bloom on cue.

But here in New England?
We don’t buy it.

Around here, spring doesn’t start when the calendar says so. Spring starts when the Red Sox take the field at Fenway Park. That’s the moment the region collectively thaws, stretches, and decides maybe — just maybe — winter is finally loosening its grip.

And since Opening Day at Fenway is April 3 this year, I guess true spring will be running a little late. Again.

Local Wildlife Confirms the Delay

If you need further proof, just ask the skunks. They’ve already begun their annual “perfume tour,” leaving unmistakable reminders that love is in the air — whether we want it or not. Nothing says spring quite like cracking open a window for fresh air and immediately regretting it.

Even the Cats Know Spring Is a Moving Target

Banner and Balboa have their own opinions about the season. Banner has already begun his warm‑weather routine of turning on lights with his teeth — a helpful service at 3 a.m., apparently. Balboa, meanwhile, has resumed his post by the sliding door, watching for birds, squirrels, and anything else that might signal the world is waking up.

They’re not convinced it’s spring yet either. And honestly? I trust their instincts more than the meteorologists.

Spring Will Get Here… Eventually

So while the rest of the country celebrates the equinox, we’ll be here in New England waiting for the crack of the bat, the roar of Fenway, and that first warm day that doesn’t immediately get followed by a frost warning.

Spring comes late here.
But when it finally arrives, it’s worth the wait.

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