Spring marches on -- and so do Valley residents

Frontiersman Editorial Board

It finally happened, and just in time. After weeks of basking in unseasonably warm weather and wishing spring would make itself known in the trees and grasses painted the same drab, aseptic tones they've been for months, a miracle took place. In one day's time, leaves have burst out of their demure buds and set the hillsides ashimmer, showing off their new chartreuse garments. Grass is green, birds are singing and everywhere, it seems, life is blossoming.

In Alaska, where the beliefs we hold to are often completely our own -- a hodgepodge of several platforms of belief, whether it be political, spiritual or philosophical -- it's tough to draw a line that clearly separates anything.

Our communities are mixed, with people working in one, shopping in another and living in yet another. People wear several hats, involved in numerous community groups at a time -- so many it's sometimes hard to tell when we're coming or going.

On that note, it's refreshing that Mother Nature, at least, can be clear about a few things. When the trees burst forth and sing with green foliage, as they did in the Palmer and Wasilla area Thursday, we know without a doubt that spring has officially arrived. While winter may have taken more of a meandering path, touching on a range of seasons, spring marches, year after year, with all the rigidness of an army on a northward path, leaving lush, green life in its wake.

Despite the meandering of our own lives, we, as Valley residents, often manage to gather together and charge forward in support of our community members, and it shows all over this edition.

People took part yesterday in the annual multiple sclerosis walk, raising funds that will help researchers move toward finding a cure for the disease. Residents along the Old Glenn Highway are working together to reclaim a safe place to walk and enjoy the beautiful area they live in. The city of Wasilla became the most recent in a list of supporters who have cheered Iditarod musher DeeDee Jonrowe in her 1,049-mile march of recovery to Nome.

We may not always share the same path, and some of us may meander in wildly different directions than others, but it's good to know that we can see the value in banding together and marching steadily, relentlessly forward when there's a need. Maybe we, too, can leave a little lush, green life in our wake.