By Elisabeth Strillacci

In the month of January, we have had both extreme cold and, thankfully, unusual warmth. That warmth makes the cold snaps bearable, or at least more so.

I love days when the sun comes out and warms the earth and the air even when I know it’s not going to last, because it reminds me that life is renewing even when I think it’s frozen stiff. It reminds me that the cycle will begin again, and plants will become green, animals will have babies, new seedlings will take root and the fertile planet that I so love is coming out of its winter respite, even if it’s just the start.

I have had the joy of living other places in our country, and I have loved each one for its own beauties and strengths.

But since I was a small, small child, I have always loved the smell of the earth in spring in the Piedmont of N.C. more than anywhere else.

I find it hard to describe it, I just know when I catch a whiff of that new, fresh fragrance even on the January breeze, my heart lifts.

When the trees have dropped their leaves, grass is more gray than green, the cold makes it challenging to be out and about instead of in the warmth of home or office, it can be so easy to think the world may never come out of hibernation. It can be easy to feel like maybe this year, the earth just won’t rebound.

And then I see forsythia across the road blooming because we had one 70-degree day. On the next warm day, I see crocuses poking their purple heads out of the cold ground, and I see the first sprouts of what will be daffodils. And I fuss at myself for having so little faith.

I become like the child in the swimming pool who, shivering with blue lips, swears they are not cold and doesn’t need to get out of the water. I prance outside happily in shirt sleeves and take a walk in the sunshine, even though halfway through I’m realizing I should have brought along a jacket.

I will not have my enthusiasm and my joy dampened even if I get home and reach for a sweatshirt and turn up the heat for a minute. I revel in the momentary reminder that spring, new life, fresh air and outdoor life is truly coming back.

Yes, I know, N.C. is famous for giving us this taste in January only to bring on even more intense cold in February. But February is our shortest month, and by then, I’ve had that taste and I know I can get through the days til March, when I’m now sure the warmth is returning.

If you know what I mean about the way the earth smells here in the Piedmont in spring, drop me an email and tell me how you’d describe it. I’d love to know because even as a writer, I find it hard to put into words. (Just don’t tell me it’s manure — you and I both know that is not what I mean!)

I hope you have a chance to go outside on one of these days that remind me of Indian Summer, when we expect cold but get unexpected warmth. Even if it’s just a few minutes of porch time, I hope you take a minute and give our earth a moment to remind you of the beauty that is coming out of a cold and barren time.

And I hope it will bring for you the simple happiness it does me.

Crocuses and forsythia and daffodils, and the roses will not be far behind. I can’t wait! I’ll keep the extra blanket on the bed for another month because I know better, but I’m keeping the ceiling fan on and the window cracked, too.

Elisabeth Strillacci is the former editor of the Salisbury Post.