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.
剛剛過去的那個四月，我回到我在那長大的農場探望我的父母。我在屋外漫步，沉浸在“家”的舒適感覺中——當時我真的很需要家的慰藉。我習慣了加利福尼亞州南部那陽光明媚的早晨，艾奧瓦州清晨凜冽的空氣使我的鼻子、耳朵和沒戴手套的雙手感到一陣陣冰冷的刺痛。

　　With my father’s fleece-lined jacket wrapped around me, and my hands snuggled deep in its well-worn pockets, I meandered around the spacious homestead when the unexpected sweet scent of lilacs suddenly called to me. Turning toward the bountiful hedge of lilacs in the distance, I spotted what looked like blooms. I hurried over.
　 我穿著父親的一件羊毛襯里的夾克，把它裹得緊緊的，然后把手深深插進它那殘破的口袋里，漫步在廣袤的農場上。這時，一陣紫丁花香意外地撲鼻而來。我轉過頭去，看到遠處圍欄邊一叢叢茂密的紫丁香似乎在怒放。我趕緊跑了過去。

　　The lavenderlilacs were indeed in glorious bloom! I pulled a plentiful clump to my face and inhaled the intoxicating scent, as I had done every springtime throughout my childhood. A warm delight seeped through my chilled bones, and I smiled at the thought that spring had arrived!
　　淡紫色的丁香花的確在燦爛地怒放著！我拉過一大束，湊到面前，盡情地聞著那令人陶醉的花香——童年的時候，每年春天，我都會這樣聞聞紫丁香。一股溫暖的喜悅沁潤了我冰冷的身骨。想到春天已經來了，我不禁微笑起來。

　　Strolling back to the house, the promise of springtime—warmth, renewal and beauty—journeyed right along with me.
　　我漫步回家，一路上，春天的征兆——溫暖、萬物復蘇和美麗一直縈繞在我心頭。

　　My father sat at the kitchen table, poring over the morning market reports.
　　父親正坐在廚房的餐桌前，出神地看著早晨股市播報。

　　“It’s spring! The lilacs are in bloom!” I joyously announced.
　　“春天來了！紫丁香花盛開了！”我歡欣雀躍地宣布。

　　“Lilacs in bloom or not, it isn’t spring until winter is gone,” he contradicted. “We’ll get a bit of cold weather yet.”
　　“不管紫丁香開不開花，只有冬天過去了，才是春天，”父親反駁說，“寒冷的天氣還要持續一段時間呢。”