Strands of golden, threadlike rays of sunshine gleamed from gray clouds drifting across the bright blue winter sky. Yes, early March is technically still winter, but during this month, our senses begin to awaken with a hopeful sense that spring is just around the corner.

On these backcountry roads spring is, in some ways, a bittersweet time of year. We take the good with the bad: the mud along with the first crocus; the new crop of frost-heaved rocks in the garden with the first sight of a robin; the pits and mounds in the thawing lawn with the knowledge that delicate blades of fine grass soon will emerge.

The first spring birds return from their sojourn to the south, dropping on the front lawn with such considerable ease it’s hard to imagine they ever left, yet their return is a sight to soak in. Their tunes cause the heart to leap. Like the first flake of snow in winter, they are an icon that a new season is sweeping in, whether we pause to take notice, whether or not we stop and give thanks.

The season that embodies rebirth, joy and hope is soon to be upon us. Are you ready and willing to truly take notice?

The sweet, sweet sounds of early birds are followed by a parade of happenings in the landscape just outside our window and door. We fling open these portholes to the outside and the soft, warm, earth-scented air gently blows in. It swirls into our nostrils, pours over our skin, makes its way in that amazing and oh-so-instant fashion to our brain’s olfactory center.

Suddenly, dozens of memories of years past bubble up to the surface with this perennial scent of the newborn spring breeze. In a flash we’re 8 years old again, rushing headlong across the soggy lawn to the nearest muddy puddle. We splash in it like a happy duckling until we’re soaked through layers of clothing and lack an ounce of dry skin. In our mind we’re reveling in the happiness of spring’s freedom.

That’s what it is, isn’t it? Spring is freedom. Even more stimulating than the celebration of the rebirth of plant life around us, spring represents a release from the harsh, impossible, cold, lifeless grip of winter. Like a bulky winter overcoat, we shed the burden of the difficult time of year and bask in the unadorned simplicity of being and becoming new.

We’re free from winter, free from punishing elements, free to live with greater ease. Flinging open that door to spring makes the spirit rejoice: “I made it again! Bring it on to me, Spring!”

And then, March, you can be so darn unpredictable. You present those first savory glimpses of spring, then you blast us with more snow. But you know what? That doesn’t really matter. The tease was enough, the hope of spring has germinated. It’s just a matter of waiting now, of being patient, and as gardeners, we are used to that – well equipped to wait, watch, and know that soon fruits will be yielded.

This wonderful circular pattern of life – rebirth, growth and rest – it’s about to begin again. Are you ready to embrace it with your senses fully honed to witness, your thoughts primed to seek to understand and your spirit readied to grow in new knowledge?

March is about more than gathering seeds, sharpening tools, arranging pots and containers. It’s about preparing to raise the garden, yes, but it’s also about preparing to raise the self.

Prepare yourself to become fit in the practice of harvesting miraculous moments, fleeting experiences that are so full of wonder, they are impossible to put to words. If you’ve been paying attention, you know what I mean. You’ve grown the garden because you relish the produce, enjoy the color and find the work therapeutic, but there are those moments you really remember. Moments when you were amazed by the tissue-paper thinness of a poppy’s petal, the lethargic pace of a slug or the sweet perfection of the first cherry tomato on your tongue.

Moments of amazing wonder will soon pour in by the thousands. Get ready to take notice!

Diana George Chapin is the NEWS garden columnist. Send horticulture questions to Gardening Questions, 512 North Ridge Road, Montville 04941 or e-mail dianagc@midcoast.com. Selected questions will be answered in future columns. Include name, address and telephone number.