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This becomes a day like any other that is somehow different in way you cannot put your finger on. The sun rises a bit later, the temperature is a bit warmer, the river lower, the trees still bare.
Ever since they moved daylight savings time back the world has felt a bit off to me. Not that I put much stock in time. I rarely know what time it is other than in relation to something I need to do. For example I know I need to put my kids to bed in 10 minutes and therefore I know it's in the neighborhood of seven o'clock. But otherwise...
Still when casting about for days to mark as somehow different than the ones right around them, March 9 or so doesn't actually seem a bad one. At least in my climate. North of here is still caked in snow and ice, well below freezing. But in my world, it's sunny and nearly 75. It might not last. It's possible another snow storm is yet to come, but you have to cast your lot with some version of the future. So I shaved my beard. When I was done I felt a bit lighter, a bit brighter. So I shaved my head too.
It's lately how I mark the passing of seasons. In autumn and winter, more hair. In spring and summer, less. It's a small thing. Like falling leaves or opening buds, but personally at least it is perhaps more. It is something anyway.
There's something about spring here in Athens, even if you can't pinpoint the time. Little things; people shedding practical footwear, fleeces and other winter accoutrements.
It's the time of year I start fermenting, creating stuff. Planting things, building things.
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