There is a reason why, in Virginia Woolf's Orlando, the birth of a child and the dawn of the 20th century are announced on the same page. That it is dated March the 20th is no coincidence either.
One senses something newish in the air, even if it is a newness we hope for again and again every year. In the vernal equinox, we find a heady mixture of constancy and change--the reliable expectation of new growth, new life, that which connects us to past springs and to future summers.
After a long, cold winter (although, technically, today is the last day of winter: the equinox is tonight), the sun is shining and spring is decidedly on its way . I couldn't be happier.
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