54 degrees in March after over 30 inches of snow in February? I was most definitely outside yesterday. I explored two different parks in Columbus with my camera in hand. Of course, I always have my camera in my hand, it being mostly attached to my face.

One of the parks was the Columbus Park of Roses. I didn’t know it existed. Despite the fact that no roses were in bloom (it is only March, after all) it was still fantastically beautiful. I caught some beautiful photos of the rose bushes that will soon spring forth with beauty, color and new life.

Throughout the park there are beautiful pathways. These pathways have 12×12 (and 8×8) engraved stones that people have purchased in honor or memory of someone in their lives. I enjoyed reading some of them as I walked and soaked up some much needed sunlight. Some included eulogies, like my favorite, “She never slowed down.” Others were wedding dates and names, most likely having been married during blooming season at the park.

And then I tripped over this one.

I literally read it as my foot passed over it and I had to stumble backward and reread it. I took a few pictures. I stood there for a few moments and wondered what individual or group of individuals thought to dedicate a stone in a park of roses to these firefighters. Was it someone who lost a loved one? Was it another firefighter who, living in Ohio, felt helpless in 2001? Was it a group of firefighters? Was it a family who felt a tug to honor their heroes? I don’t know the answer. Someone spent $200 to forever remember those firefighters.

I wish I could thank that person myself.

Fire life seems to touch so much of my own life. As we walked down the Short North last night after supper, a group of Columbus fire trucks raced to a scene that I assume was a false alarm. The aerial truck responded and a bit of fear pulsed through my veins. I didn’t get a picture because my fingers were frozen at this point, the sun having dipped down behind the buildings. But, like the stone in the park had said earlier that day, I gazed upon the scene with a hopeful heart that everything would be okay and said a prayer and a brief thank you. They may not be my firefighters from my department but they’re still part of our fire family, wherever I happen to be.

Even in a rose garden.

Hope springs eternal. Or, rather, Spring makes me hopeful.

I’m tired of being stuck inside. I’m tired of the snow. I’m tired, mainly. I need fresh air that doesn’t burn my lungs. I need a little more green, it being my favorite color and all. I need more color than various shades of grey. I need Spring.

I’ve been feeling kind of down in the dumps, overwhelmed with our four walls and constant company. It’s not that I’d just turn my kids loose outdoors and not watch them; it’s that we need more space for our voices, our personalities. We need to stretch and run and spend that energy. It’s been a hard winter, too, having lost two family members. I need that hopeful feeling that the new growth of Spring brings.

And it’s so close I can almost taste it.

Buds. They’re coming. I can almost imagine the blooms that they will soon bring. I can almost imagine our apple tree in full bloom, buds pushing up through the grass. I can almost imagine grass. Snow is melting, here and there, and I can see the dull, dark browns and green from a winter of halted growth. Will it green up soon? Will it soon outnumber the patches, piles and inches of endless white?

I have this lament every year, like last year when I was worried about snow falling on my day lily sprouts. They came up on March 17th. That’s only thirteen days from now. Surely that means that hope is just around the corner, just waiting to be discovered. Right? Surely that means that the sun will shine more than just today. That soon the snow will melt. That maybe, just maybe, Spring really is coming this year, not leaving us in this frozen tundra of gloom and doom forever. Right?

This has been one of the worst winters I can remember; not just snow wise but emotionally as well. Maybe not the worst but it ranks up there quite high. I’m ready to feel new again myself. To shed my winter coat and stand with my face to the sun and let the bright rays of hope remind me of who I am and what it is that I am doing here.

I’m ready. Is Spring?

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[For more hopeful photos, visit today's You Capture Challenge at I Should Be Folding Laundry.]

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