The First Day of Spring

“Look, Abner, a flock of geese! You know what that means?”

“No, Carl, I don’t know what that means,” Abner replied to the old man sitting next to him.

“It means spring has finally begun!” Carl’s eyes lit up behind his coke-bottle glasses, his wrinkled face forming a gleeful smile.

“No, it doesn’t. It’s too early for spring.”

“What do you mean? The snow geese fly north in the spring. Those are snow geese, we are north, so it must be spring!”

“Birds are dumb, a lot dumber than scientists and engineers. Even scientists get things wrong sometimes. If the smartest people alive can make mistakes, who’s to say birds can’t do the same? Maybe these are the dumb geese who started their trip too early.”

By the now the arguing pair of old friends had captured the attention of everyone on the small ferry. The route to Cape May wasn’t very far, but the slow pace of the aging craft made the trip feel like an eternity. With nothing but time on their hands, the other passengers began joining the debate. Across from the two old men sat a young schoolteacher, quietly scanning the pages of her scientific digest magazine. Two seats down from her sat a heavyset accountant, arms folded across his chest as he drifted in and out sleep. Further still sat a mysterious traveler, his relaxed gaze steady on the horizon.

The schoolteacher chimed in. “How dare you call birds dumb. They mastered the science of flight millions of years before the first planes ever left the ground!”

“Bah!” Abner replied, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. She made a good point, but the old man didn’t feel like admitting it. “If you’re so smart, when does spring begin?”

“That’s easy! Spring begins on the vernal equinox, when the day is exactly twelve hours long and the northern and southern hemispheres receive nearly equal sunlight.”

Abner grew more frustrated. “That’s a terrible answer! You wouldn’t tell a farmer it was safe to plant his crops all because ‘Vernon Elliott’ – or whatever name you said – decided that winter was over. I’ve seen my fair share of blizzards and frosts throughout April, long after the supposed ‘first day of spring.’”

 “I always thought there was some kind of overlap,” came the accountant. He adjusted his glasses and continued. “I’ve seen plenty of years where we’ve had the most serene spring weather one week, followed by bitter cold the next.”

“An overlap? That’s preposterous!” The old curmudgeon snapped. “You can’t have two seasons at the same time! Why label the seasons at all?”

“You absolutely can have two seasons simultaneously,” replied Carl. “I once spent a month in the Texas panhandle, and I’ll be damned if we didn’t have all four seasons, sometimes in the same day!”

“That’s not how seasons work, and you know it!”

There was a momentary lull as the passengers, growing uncomfortable from Abner’s salty demeanor, opted not to add fuel to the fire. Just as Abner thought he was finally going to get some peace and quiet, his old friend spoke up once more.

“You there!” Carl gestured to the lone traveler seated at the end of his row. “You haven’t said anything yet. When do you think spring begins?”

The man sat for a moment and pondered the question. He had attempted to tune out his fellow passengers, but much to his chagrin, he was drawn into the fray after all.

“That’s not something you can really measure. The seasons of the year are, after all, like the seasons of life. When does childhood end? Is it a ceremony, like a bar mitzvah, high school graduation, or wedding vows? Is it when you begin your career, own your home, or have your first child? I suppose, for all of us seated here, it’s not that simple. It’s a combination of some, all – or none – of the above.”

He took a long, slow breath and continued. “You might argue that adulthood doesn’t inherently exist, it’s something that we made up to help us understand the world around us. Your idea of when adulthood begins depends entirely on your definition of adulthood. A biologist may claim a child is grown when he or she reaches sexual maturity, where a capitalist may argue that it occurs when financial independence is achieved. In some ways, both are right, in others, both are wrong.

“Likewise, your perception of the first day of spring is dependent on what spring means to you. If your definition of spring involves the relative position of the earth’s hemispheres to the angle of the sun, then the vernal equinox is a cause for celebration. If you’re a farmer planning to sow the year’s first seeds, then the weather will be your indication. And for an old man who enjoys seeing the birds return every year, your eyes will be fixed on the horizon, waiting for the first sign of spring to flutter your way.”

The passengers were taken aback, quietly contemplating the words of their fellow traveler. All but one, that is.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Abner grumbled. “When do YOU think spring begins?”

The traveler paused for a moment, then looked towards the old man. “The way I see it, spring and fall are just transitions from winter and summer, much like east and west are just transitions from north and south. There is no ‘east pole,’ just as there is no spring solstice. The period of time between the shortest day of the year and the longest day of the year, well, that’s spring to me.”

“Bah!” the old man snapped. “That’s the worst answer I’ve heard yet! Now quiet, all of you. I’d like to get some rest before we reach the shore.”

With that, the passengers went about their business, reading their magazines, watching the seascape, or simply dozing off like old Abner.

Carl smiled as he watched another v-formation of geese pass overhead. “Another flock,” he pointed out, giddy as ever. “Spring’s definitely here!”

Abner groaned as he rolled his eyes and dozed off.