Spring forward now maybe

March 11, 2026
Owl Feather Farm, San Juan Island

Is it spring yet? No.

Yes.

Maybe.

Spring technically arrives here at Owl Feather Farm at 7:45am next Friday, March 20. That’s the official start this year of astronomical spring—the vernal equinox—and if you inquired about spring in a 3rd grade classroom, that’s the answer you’d get.

Spring forward now maybe
Definitely signs of spring

But questions arise.

Which officials?

Whose astronomy?

Which technology?

Because of the confusion generated by the above items, climate scientists have begun referring to “meteorological spring,” in order to attempt to get along with the fact that some northern hemisphere people are dodging snowdrifts still, some folks elsewhere are picking daffodils, others are surfing spring swells on north shores, some are playing golf and others hockey. All this just in the US. March 1 is the start of meteorological spring, sort of a politic average for a vast continent.

At the exact moment astronomical “spring” arrives, it may be 32 below in Fairbanks, Alaska, but 82 in Tucson, Arizona.

Then there’s the gnarly matter of sunrise and sunset. Because of daylight savings time, which is either a communist plot or a splendid innovation, depending on your point of view, both sun times move forward an hour in what seems most places to be spring.

More time to pick daffodils.

Or go snowshoeing.

If you want to use another perspective, let’s discuss horticultural spring, which is different every year. This year at Owl Feather Farm our daffodils bloomed Feb 28, and we have leftover roses from last autumn still blooming now. Lawn mowing started two weeks ago, and our horses Cereus and Cocoa are chowing down on lush green grass two months earlier than last year.

So what is this technical event that takes place at an awesomely precise time the morning of Mar 20? Can astronomers really pinpoint the exact instant the sun crosses the equator? Are we sure?

Yes or no, it’s an attempt by the human intellect to impose, or recognize, depending on your point of view, order in a disorderly universe. Humans find expectability comforting. We like to point to a minute, or a date, or some natural precision, to anchor our sailing through a universe so big it makes no sense. The swallows always return to Capistrano. Geese fly north. Leaves emerge from stiff gray stems.

Spring is popular. “Hope springs eternal.” “Always it’s Spring and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves,” wrote the incomparable e.e. cummings. “And then my heart with pleasure fills/And dances with the daffodils,” enthused Wordsworth. One of music’s most notorious works is Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, which caused a riot when first performed in 1913 because it is, like spring, messy, jumbled and chaotic. But orchestras play it still.

So what to do with spring? Hold its hand, walk forward and be kind. Simple, really, any time you choose.

—Eric Lucas

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