Optimism

That's what my mom said when she saw this tiny bulb and its spring shoot. And isn't that what we all have to have on cold, gray, rainy, 40 degree March days? It's technically spring now, but the warm weather and green buds are still weeks off at this point. We are all yearning for that first scent of wet dirt on a barely warm breeze to replace the cold, sterile nothingness of winter winds.

People threw trash into December's foot deep drifts and for a season it was invisible. But while March's snow piles attempt to stubbornly hold fast to their ever shrinking plots of real estate, all around the wet perimeters, bottles, cans and wrappers are revealed like the first crocus bulbs peeking through damp leaves.

And we take optimistic walks through the city, still bundled in wool, excited for the day when the Caffe puts its shiny chrome tables back out on the wide sidewalk and opens the giant green doors to the street. Lowell is a city that shines in the warm weather. We had a good winter, but we can't wait to see spring.