Although April showers bring May flowers, there’s been nary a drop here in Northern California. Still, hope springs eternal. So does Spring. Particularly when accompanied by a robust vaccination rollout.

One minute after we booked our first shots, we also booked our first trip in ages–a long weekend of hiking around Auburn, California. Hoping not to become April Fools, my husband and I set out April 1, almost two months after our second jab.

Auburn’s a picturesque Gold Rush town, and the American River runs through it.

Snow melt, such as it is, makes the river flow, the wildflowers are resplendent from the bit of rain we got in March, and fire season, while in our consciousness, was not yet in the air. Our self-contained Airbnb with kitchen facilities and good wi-fi awaited after a day on the trails:

Since I had cleverly sprained my ankle a week before our trip, I came equipped with a good brace and my laptop in case I had to spend our weekend at our studio while Jonathan hiked. I am happy to report that the brace worked, and I didn’t crack the laptop even once.

It was a gorgeous trip, one we savored even more given the limitations of the previous year:

There was even a rainbow at the end of our last hike, a good omen before heading home:

Spring is officially here, and with it comes a sense of renewal. Here in northern California, the green hills and blossoms make everything feel possible despite the drought. Even on the East Coast, as temperatures inch upward, the earth comes alive from underneath the snow that is inexorably melting.

It’s a time of hope.

How fitting and delightful, then, to visit with our friends from Indiana (where, they tell us, the crocus and daffodil are beginning to make a strong stand). Terry and Lisa have always symbolized for me the promise of fresh starts after dark times. After suffering through a painful divorce and the death of a spouse, they met at a conference and fell deeply in love. With fulfilling careers in separate states, Terry and Lisa maintained a long-distance relationship for years. Marriage was certain, but on the horizon.

Then suddenly, everything became less certain. Two springs ago, Terry and Lisa lay in separate  London hospitals in medically induced comas. They had been hit by a double decker bus on their first day en route to a conference. The early reports were grave—no one knew if they would live. Or if they’d be better off if they didn’t. Anxious days and weeks followed, until Terry and Lisa were stable enough for separate medical transports back to separate states.

Their road to recovery has been long but steady. And, miracle of miracles, complete! Today you’d never know how close Terry and Lisa came to death. They are vitally alive, emerging from dark times with even greater gratitude and love. Such a close call did, however, change their horizon–last year Terry and Lisa consolidated two states and two households into one, and got married! They are thriving, and we are so grateful for the renewal of love and life that they embody and inspire.

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What does spring mean to you? What  opportunities for renewal will you embrace?

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