As the calendar flips to March, there’s a subtle shift in the air that’s hard to ignore. The biting chill of winter begins to loosen its grip, and the world feels like it’s waking up. Here we are, on the cusp of spring—my favorite season, and one that feels especially meaningful this year as I lean into my word for 2025: Hope.

Winter has its own quiet beauty, doesn’t it? The stark landscapes, the cozy nights by the fire, the way the snow (or frost, depending on where you are) hushes everything into stillness. But by mid-March, I’m ready to trade the heavy coats and gray skies for something lighter, something brighter. Spring arrives like a promise—a reminder that even after the longest, coldest months, renewal is possible. That’s where the hope creeps in, soft and persistent, like the first green shoots pushing through the soil.

The warm weather is what gets me every time. There’s nothing quite like stepping outside and feeling the sun on your face after months of bundling up. It’s as if the earth itself is exhaling, inviting us to do the same. I can already picture the windows thrown open, the breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers, and the sound of birds that seem to sing with a little extra enthusiasm. It’s a season that feels alive, and it stirs something in me too—a sense that fresh starts aren’t just possible, they’re inevitable.

Of course, spring isn’t without its quirks. For every warm day and budding tree, there’s a cloud of pollen waiting to remind us that beauty often comes with a catch. My eyes are already itching just thinking about it, and I know I’ll be reaching for the tissues as much as I’ll be reaching for my sunglasses. But isn’t that life in a nutshell? We take the good with the bad, the sunshine with the sneezes, because the trade-off is worth it. A little discomfort can’t dim the glow of a season that practically radiates possibility.

That’s what hope is to me this year—not a blind optimism that ignores the messy bits, but a steady belief that the good outweighs the rough patches. Spring embodies that perfectly. It’s the courage of a daffodil breaking through the dirt, the warmth that lingers a little longer each day, the way nature shrugs off winter and says, “Let’s try again.” It’s a season that doesn’t pretend everything’s perfect, but dares us to see the beauty anyway.

So here’s to spring 2025—to the longer days, the softer air, and the hope that settles in like an old friend. Sure, I’ll be sniffling through the pollen and cursing the occasional muddy footprint tracked inside, but I’ll also be soaking up every second of this shift. Because at the end of the day, that’s what hope asks of us: to embrace the bloom, even when it comes with a little sting.

What about you? How does spring feel where you are? Let’s share the insanity—and the hope—of this season together.