Tulips at the Chase Building in downtown Waterbury.
Column by John Murray
Late April in New England is a time of renewal. After six months of slumber our lawns and meadows turn green, daffodils and tulips poke their heads up and flower, and our forests (70% of Connecticut) are electric with anticipation as our oak and maple and cherry trees produce more leaves than there are stars in the night sky.
And after enduring another winter of bleak landscapes, dry air and pale faces, light and heat return, and so do the songbirds that fill our ears with chirps and whistles.
Spring is a time of hope in New England. Summer gardens and barbecues draw nearer, and we begin to plan for trips to the ponds and lakes and beaches that wash the doldrums from our winter-beaten souls.
This year Spring arrives like the cavalry in a an old western flick; we're quarantined in a pandemic, but we have hope, and eventually we will return to the lives we knew with renewed gratitude for a simple hug of a loved one.
Hope is all around us.