Officially spring begins on March 21, but we all know that the moment when Spring actually arrives – that magical day when all the world seems new-born – varies widely from place to place. Having grown up in Wyoming, where Spring arrives over a single afternoon sometime in late May, I have enjoyed the ability to savor the longer unfolding process in Pennsylvania. I treasure the first careful emergence of daffodils in early March, watch eagerly as the first Hosta spearpoints poke out of the soil, and carefully measure the gradual unfolding of leaves on the larger trees. As azaleas make their exuberant appearance later in April, I begin to feel a bittersweet sadness, knowing that soon the world will be enveloped in green and we will forget that tree branches could ever have been so dark and bare.
Here in Switzerland, the unfolding process also varies by altitude. After a mild winter, Spring arrived early this year in the valleys but it is still working its way upwards into the high mountain meadows. Meanwhile, back in the United States was late in arriving after a long, hard winter. Not only in Wyoming, where being caught in an Easter blizzard is one of my favorite childhood memories, but even in generally moderate Pennsylvania, Spring was several weeks late in arriving this year. Hence by means of some well-planned travel I have been able to experience those magical early moments of Spring over and over.
On weekdays after TS gets home from work we have taken advantage of the lengthening daylight to walk out into the hills around Baar. Each time we observed new hints of spring, from planted flowers and bushes in town to wildflowers in the fields and along the streams.
On weekdays after TS gets home from work we have taken advantage of the lengthening daylight to walk out into the hills around Baar. Each time we observed new hints of spring, from planted flowers and bushes in town to wildflowers in the fields and along the streams.
On a weekend walk around Baar, we noted that members of the local gardening association -- which seems to confer possession of a substantial allotment on the edge of town -- had already been hard at work. 
By the end of March in Switzerland it became clear that the oft-promised late-winter snowfall was not going to materialize and The Spouse and I reluctantly put away our skis and dusted off our hiking boots. Our first foray was a hike above the village of Meiringen, about an hour from Baar in the heart of the Bernese Oberland. It was a perfect way to launch the hiking season, for although the hike was long it wasn’t unduly arduous.
After the inevitable climb up the valley walls we entered another valley between stunning peaks. For about the last hour, snow on the path forced us to walk along a paved road instead.
The following weekend we decided to venture west into the canton of Vaud, in the French-speaking part of Switzerland. We visited the village of Romanmoitie, site of a lovely Romanesque Abbey and hiked into lush countryside around it. All around were signs and smells of Spring in full bloom. 
Living in the midst of active farms, we also observed the arrival of Spring in the animal world. In early April newly-born kids – the real kind – appeared in one field; a few days later we saw tiny lambs, so recently born that they could barely stand.
At that point, I left Spring behind and returned to Philadelphia for a visit. I was surprised to find that the season was about two weeks behind that in Switzerland. In fact, the entire east coast was in the throes of turbulent weather more suited to early March. Although Pennsylvania was spared the tornadoes that devastated North Carolina (and that would wreak havoc in Alabama and Mississippi later), heavy rainstorms resulted in flooded rivers that kept me from my beloved rowing for some days. But the late arrival of the season allowed me to re-experience the arrival of Spring when the weather turned suddenly warm on Easter day. As the temperature soared above 80 degrees Fahrenheit, the grateful city poured out to soak up the sun in the city’s parks.
Returning we descended through pastureland filled with dandelions, buttercups and cows seemingly as happy with the sights, sounds and smells of Spring as we were.
