It's 8:39 pm. It's dark, but there are still birds twittering away outside my window.

Which is open.

It's a spring miracle!

In Michigan, spring is difficult to pin down: as far back as I can remember, it has always snowed at least once in April. Around Detroit, we only get about 75 "sunny" days (this doesn't count "partly sunny," only days that the weather people classify as "sunny"), and even though I've only lived here for 22 years, I'd pretty confidently say that most of those happen in the summer. Early spring is mostly gray, mostly cloudy: the skies are bright, but it's the sun refracting off of all the clouds.

But something happens around the beginning of April, because ever since the beginning of November, we Michiganders have been stuck in gray mush, dirty slush, and chilly days (and not the campfires-in-the-backyard, hoodies-and-tall-boots kind of chilly, either -- more like the bring-out-the-space-heater, sleeping-with-your-dogs-even-though-you-know-you'll-wake-up-with-a-bed-covered-in-fur, time-to-buy-another-blanket-because-four-isn't-enough-anymore kind of chilly).

At least dogs are more fun than space heaters. Generally more cuddly, too.

It starts small, usually in backyards. I'll venture out onto the patio in our backyard to watch our dogs, who suddenly want to spend more time outside, and see our neighbors' young children playing in their backyard with their parents. Maybe we'll even chat for a bit instead of just waving. My mom will resume her seasonal complaints that the corner of the yard by the fence has begun flooding again. The trees will start to bud, and my mom's rose bushes will look a little less dead.

Then it spreads to the front yards, and I'll see people out doing yard work for the first time since about October. Some daring people might even decide to risk planting some early bulbs in the hopes that our eventual April showers will bring them May flowers first.

After that, it's the sidewalks and the streets. Even if it's still gray outside, we've had enough of it: joggers will pass by in warmer athletic gear, and there will be significantly more of them than there were in the winter. People will go for bike rides or walks with their kids and dogs, and driveway basketball nets will once again see use.

This all generally happens around early April in my neighborhood, and this is what spring is to me: it's not just the flowers pushing their way up through the ground or hearing the birds through open windows or even (ugh) the allergies -- it's the life that comes back to the world as, even if the weather doesn't quite cooperate with us, we've decided that winter is over.