This past April while visiting my parents on the farm I’d grown up on, I wandered outside to drink in the feel of “home”, a comfort I really needed right then. I was used to sunny Southern Californian mornings, and the brisk early-morning Iowan air nipped at my nose, ears and bare hands.

刚刚过去的那个四月，我回到我在那长大的农场探望我的父母。我在屋外漫步，沉浸在“家”的舒适感觉中——当时我真的很需要家的慰藉。我习惯了加利福尼亚州南部那阳光明媚的早晨，艾奥瓦州清晨凛冽的空气使我的鼻子、耳朵和没戴手套的双手感到一阵阵冰冷的刺痛。

With my father’s fleece-lined jacket wrapped around me, and my hands snuggled deep in its well-worn pockets, I meandered¹ around the spacious² homestead when the unexpected sweet scent³ of lilacs suddenly called to me. Turning toward the bountiful hedge of lilacs in the distance, I spotted⁴ what looked like blooms. I hurried over.

我穿着父亲的一件羊毛衬里的夹克，把它裹得紧紧的，然后把手深深插进它那残破的口袋里，漫步在广袤的农场上。这时，一阵紫丁花香意外地扑鼻而来。我转过头去，看到远处围栏边一丛丛茂密的紫丁香似乎在怒放。我赶紧跑了过去。

The lavenderlilacs were indeed in glorious bloom! I pulled a plentiful⁵ clump⁶ to my face and inhaled⁷ the intoxicating⁸ scent, as I had done every springtime throughout my childhood. A warm delight seeped⁹ through my chilled bones, and I smiled at the thought that spring had arrived!

淡紫色的丁香花的确在灿烂地怒放着！我拉过一大束，凑到面前，尽情地闻着那令人陶醉的花香——童年的时候，每年春天，我都会这样闻闻紫丁香。一股温暖的喜悦沁润了我冰冷的身骨。想到春天已经来了，我不禁微笑起来。

Strolling back to the house, the promise of springtime—warmth, renewal¹⁰ and beauty—journeyed right along with me.

我漫步回家，一路上，春天的征兆——温暖、万物复苏和美丽一直萦绕在我心头。

My father sat at the kitchen table, poring over the morning market reports.

父亲正坐在厨房的餐桌前，出神地看着早晨股市播报。

“It’s spring! The lilacs are in bloom!” I joyously¹¹ announced.

“春天来了！紫丁香花盛开了！”我欢欣雀跃地宣布。

“Lilacs in bloom or not, it isn’t spring until winter is gone,” he contradicted. “We’ll get a bit of cold weather yet.”

“不管紫丁香开不开花，只有冬天过去了，才是春天，”父亲反驳说，“寒冷的天气还要持续一段时间呢。”