The first signs of Spring in Batesville bring relief and anticipation. I discover the crocus in bloom along our brick walkway and a smile creeps across my face. The delicate white, purple, and yellow flowers peak out from newly sprouting grass. The splash of color indicates the world will soon burst open with life and growth. As I walk the path in our woods a week later the tips of the spicebush branches are flush with fluffy yellow flowers and dot the woods. When I see the white flower of the bloodroot I know we are getting closer to even warmer days and lush green landscapes. I love how the bloodroot’s flower opens in the morning sunlight and closes tight when the sun falls below the mountains in the evening. 

The pull of the old home place in Highland becomes strong this time of year. We always drain the pipes in the drafty old home every winter and reopen them when the first signs of Spring appear. Ben and I pack up the truck on Thursday after we finish up work and make the trek across the winding mountain roads. As we crest Shenandoah mountain I notice the dark clouds.

“Looks like snow ahead.” I remark to Ben.

The dogs shift restlessly in the back seat. Charlie lets out a whimper and Mira lifts her head to look out the window.

I chuckle. “We should know better by now. We are about to go back in time.”

There are zero signs of Spring as we continue down the mountain into Headwaters. The trees show no signs of budding and the grass is brown. The landscape is cold and grey beneath the think layers of clouds above.

We drive through McDowell and slither through Strait Creek as the last moments of sunlight fade. Finally we arrive at the gate to the home place. The headlights flash down toward the farmhouse and I see flakes of snow in the beams.

The farmhouse is so cold. We opt to go to bed versus making fires in the stoves. The wind whips the old tin roof as we snuggle in the bed. Mira and Charlie both climb into the bed with us. We don’t object as their warmth is welcomed. Although their smell isn’t quite as comforting. I pull the covers up to cover my cold nose and shiver myself to sleep.

I wake to a pink sunrise. The view from the bedroom is absolutely breathtaking. A dusting of snow blankets the hills and Snowy Mountain twinkles at the end of the valley.

Ben and I each build a fire in one of the stoves and warm our hands above them as they take off. My brother and his son arrive in the evening to a warm home with the old kettle whistling on the wood stove. My brother’s girlfriend arrives and two other close friends. We sit in the old kitchen and fill it with laughter. The morning snow has melted away and the warmth of friends and family bursts life back into the home place. Spring in the mountains is still at least a week away, but the life and vibrancy of the home place is alive and well.