While walking around the block after my run this evening, it started to rain. The drops were large and fell intermittently: one landed on my eyelashes, another hit my now ungloved hand, a third bounced off of my neck.

The sky was grey and unbroken overhead.

A tree, still leafless, looked more spindly than usual. My eyes focused on the branches near the top of the tree and, against the grey backdrop, tiny, dark buds dotted the thin limbs. My gaze drifted down the tree and, indeed, little nubs lined all the branches at even intervals.

The next tree was also sprouting buds.

Ah, I thought. It may not feel like it, it may not look like it, but, despite my perceptions otherwise, Spring is coming.