I once heard somewhere that nostalgia was an experience similar to a swift step down a rabbit hole. And having the opportunity to contemplate yet again how nostalgia may play a role in my day, I found myself wandering through memory lane, stooping steeper in reminiscence. 

Something that only confirmed the suspicion that the two have their similarities. 

How many times have we Wisconsinites allowed ourselves to believe spring is closer than it is? I know for myself there have been countless times where I purposely forgo a jacket once it surpasses thirty degrees just to convince myself the earth is beginning to thaw once again. 

Now that the weather has in fact been getting warmer, or at least to the extent that the birds have begun to chirp, I have amused the habit of being among wishful thinkers when it comes to the variance of Spring.

One of the immediate things that come to mind when I think about the season of new beginnings is the scent. 

As the snow fades and the sun finally has the chance to showcase its warmth, the entire aesthetic and trajectory of the outdoors is transformed. The evenings get longer, and the sun paints the sky like a canvas with sugar-spun colors of pink, blue and orange.

The air is crisp until it reaches a relative humidity where those colors in the sky begin to streak and disperse into translucent clouds of silver. Clouds that produce sprinkled raindrops of rebirth, a blanket to the streets. 

I know others will agree when I say the smell of rain on concrete during the springtime is in fact something that exists. For myself, it takes me back to much simpler school days. When the cares we had boiled down to how long we could stay out with our friends, or if there was a theme for the Friday night football game. 

Spring had been the season in high school when the track finally began to be visible from the absence of snow. When friends on the team would regret their participation once the wearying practices began, and yet knowing they were enduring it together made it worth the while. 

Spring has informally personified the homestretch of our trials and efforts. A literal illustration of revival, lush greens and awaited blue skies represent our own up-and-coming achievements.

Regardless of the imminent change Spring will both prompt and undergo, it does not hold back. Contrarily, its very purpose is resolute and even flourishes in spite of them. Perhaps we should perceive ourselves as such, knowing brighter days will always be ahead, and we will always have our moment to shine. 

Spring is a time when the gloominess of a constant chill in the air subsides, and hope for a new season, both temperate and individually, begins. 

Not only does the air change in temperature from frost to first bloom, but I have realized it can represent the variance in the weight it carries for ourselves. Especially when reminiscing situations from the past that were light in responsibility, and would allow for an easeful sigh of simplicity. 

Spring has always been full of moments that consist of new experiences, and yet there always seems to be a familiar fondness that accompanies every year.

Weiss can be reached at [email protected]