My relationship with Spring has often been fraught; I always disliked that my birthday fell during a time of year that I had so many reservations about. The teasing of winter’s end is a push-and-pull that frays my nerves; one week, it seems warmer weather is upon us only for a blanket of snow to descend suddenly and bury the ground along with our hopes for the new season. Additionally, the uncertainty of an entire new year looming ahead always felt incredibly imposing.
Spring in the air at last - a perfect day. — E. L. Kammerer, March 17, 1940
Today’s snow the most attractive of the winter. — E. L. Kammerer, March 21, 1940
The weather has (seemingly) begun to turn towards warmth and light. Recently, sitting out on the porch, reveling in the 50-degree day as only Chicagoans hardened by brutal winters can, a friend said that Spring is one of his favorite seasons because it feels like a time of new beginnings. The obvious growth and birth metaphors aside, this framing resonated with me. I let myself feel the possibility wafting on the almost warm air and turned my face to the sunlight, beaming not with the overt harshness of summer or winter but a softer glow—ready to illuminate the newness bursting forth in us and around us.
Spring officially arrived at 6:21 PM today. Heard the first meadow lark en route to the office this AM. — E. L. Kammerer, March 20, 1941
Although the most impressive displays of the season won’t occur for another few weeks, the Arboretum is slowly beginning to unfurl. After months of turning inward to survive the winter, one can feel the collective exhale of nature, ready to present its leaves and blooms outward once again.
Heard a robin singing its spring song for the first time this year. A flock of 14 wild Ducks were swimming on the river this AM - probably Golden Eyes, Black Heads, and Black and White Breasts. — E. L. Kammerer, March 29, 1940
I came across an anecdote in a letter written by John D. Siebenthaler to my grandfather in 1958, complimenting him on the recent Bulletin of Popular Information about Gingko trees. Mr. Siebenthaler included a trick passed down to him by his father: that even in the coldest weather, placing your hands on a Gingko’s bark will warm them.
Of course, upon receipt of this letter, my grandpa and his colleagues immediately set out to test this theory. Their results, obtained via subjective tests as well as more objective scientific measurements, were reported as inconclusive — requiring further study.
I love the enthusiasm with which my grandpa set out to test this bit of lore. Personally I’m inclined to believe that, like so much of Spring’s magic, the effect isn’t measurable—instead a somatic reflection of the optimism inherent in the season.
In the coming months, I’ll be sure to share Spring as it rolls through the Arboretum. With the seemingly endless chaos weaving its way through every facet of our lives right now, I’ve found it hard to access the more wistful and creative parts of my brain. Too much bandwidth being shunted to areas that process impending doom and uncertainty. But I’m trying to focus on, as my friend so aptly put it, new beginnings. Keeping an eye towards possibility and the lightness of this time of year. My posting has been more sporadic than I’d like (though there has been plenty going on behind the scenes that I’m excited to share!), and I hope to carve out more time soon to turn towards the sunlight, allowing it to warm my face and remind me that every day is a new beginning.
Spring at last - balmy breeze + that undescribable odor. — E. L. Kammerer, March 29, 1932
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Spring Beginnings
Boy, do we need this sort of comfort reading this week! Thanks, Sarah. I will wait until it's a little warmer before trying out the Gingko theory.
Love this, Sarah. Can’t wait for spring!