The change of a week

Rain pounds against the windows and distorts my view of the street outside. To my right, hidden somewhere in the rolling clouds, is the mountain that we descended yesterday evening. The dining room of Hardee's is far for from glamorous but it is dry and warm and the smell of Tide on my clothes is comforting. We entered pearisburg last night with aching feet from the 1500 foot descent, only to find that the town is on the opposite side of a sizeable hill. My heart sunk, and through the gloom and doom thoughts in my head I find irony in the importance of this one hill compared to the many mountains we summit daily. The difference however is that my mind is set on a warm bed now and a refuge from the coming storms, no determination is left in me. The plaza motel and holiday lodge stand side by side, like two prostitutes on a street corner and the question boils down to which is cleaner. The second and third floors are filled with permanent residents, the pool is a flaky blue bowl and the restaraunt consist of a pool table and vending machine, this is home for the night. A warm shower washes the salt from my hair and I keep my eyes closed to keep them from burning. The water washes the dark dust from my feet and in an instant I feel clean. This doesn't however keep me from scrubbing vigorously for 15 minutes before I am content, and like a new man I fling back the curtain in a blaze of glory, I am clean and I am invincible. My high spirits carry me through to the task of washing our stained and sticky clothes. It is amazing what a week of humidity and eighty degrees will do to a freshly washed pair of running shorts and a dry fit t-shirt. Nights that fail to dip below sixty also accelerate the " I feel like a human fly trap" process. This weather is new to us, the birds singing are new to us and in a matter of a week winter turned to summer, with no homage to spring. A short twist in time and things were much different, so different, that it doesn't seem real.
Thursday, April 4th 2013. We awake to overcast skies and silence. The air is thick, the front is moving in and I can see my breath. White top road winds below us through the birch trees. At 5200 ft, we are camped atop the second highest mountain in Virginia. Somewhere between packing the tent and packing my bag the rain begins to fall. This expedites  the process and in a matter of moments we are hustling down the boulder strewn spine of the Virginia Highlands. The rain that is falling coats my jacket and freezes as it hits, by the time we reach elk garden we are covered in a layer of ice, and the rain has turned to a stinging sleet. An hour later as we are climbing Mt. Rogers the sleet turns to snowballs, not snowflakes, but 3 inch powdery balls that accumulate much faster than anything I have ever seen. Grayson highlands was covered in a blanket of white and although it usually boasts of panoramic views our vision was constricted to fifty feet in every direction. Another night leveling a tent pad in the snow, rushing to change into leggings and diving into my sleeping bag only to find that we have to fight the cold a little longer. Luckily, over the course of the following day, the snow melted and the sun livened up the town of Marion.
When we started back on Saturday we encountered seventies and sunshine. It was as if January had given way to May. Everyday since, we have woken to warmer air and the past few nights have been so mild that it's not unusual to break a sweat while sleeping. With each step I can feel the world awakening at breathtaking speed. Leaves are unfurling and the color green is boldly replacing the white and brown of winter. I can't help but think of when Aslan returns to Narnia and the hundred years of winter ends. It is just as magical and as surreal. Winter has ended, after one final, snowy breath and spring has catapulted us into a different world of singing birds, blue skies and suntanned skin. The animals and trees know that the world is changing and I can say I have never been so In tune to the transformation of spring. Granted the heat makes for a sweaty and sticky ordeal, spring is beautiful and I will gladly accept all that it is over the arctic conditions we've encountered so far.
The spring is here, late but bold, and I will gladly walk along the ridges as they turn green and listen as the world erupts into song.