Spring finally arrives in mountains of the North

Today in the field, it’s warm — the kind of warmth long awaited. The sun hasn’t fully broken through the clouds yet, but you can already feel the scent of spring on the breeze. There’s a shift in the forest's energy today, subtle but unmistakable. The air is so sweet, with the hints of new growth, the warmer air, and the subtle wildness drawing off the mountains.

Graham, of course, is bustling along the forest edge, nose to the ground, soaking in all the new scents and observing the change of weather.

It’s probably the first warm, rain-free day we’ve had in a while, and I’m hopeful that later this afternoon the sun will shine even brighter. You can feel the shift all the way up in town, too — distant sounds of yard work, the village slowly stirring back to life. It’s as if everyone is stretching, waking up, and admiring the new buds on the trees, soon to be leaves.

These are the last few weeks we’ll be living here in this part of the mountains. We’ll be moving soon, and today feels like one of the final walks I’ll take through this field with Graham.

Back home, there’s packing to do — no one’s favorite task. Still, it’s time to let go of this house and step into our next chapter. I’m excited, but it’s bittersweet too. This is where I met Joe and began my life in Maine. Letting go feels layered, as transitions often do — not just black and white, but full of gratitude, a little sadness, and a lot of hope.

Graham has found a nice dry stick and settled down for a bit. I think I’ll do the same — soak in this warm spring day while it lasts.

I can hear peepers singing in the distance now. As I step out onto the field, even more green shoots appear—little promises of lupines, daisies, and a wild scatter of flowers waiting just below the surface.

Until our next walk, breathe deeply and notice often.

-Rachel