O Spring, Spring, Wherefore Art Thou?

O Spring, spring, wherefore art thou?

Yesterday I was out doing yard work for the first time in months, while pretending that spring is finally here.
It was chilly, but I took my jacket off and worked harder and faster to stay warm (I just refused to put my jacket on as I held onto the fantasy that I didn’t really need it).
Despite the chill, this week’s forecast gives me a glimmer of hope that spring will make an appearance and finally choose to stay.
Living in the northeast, I look forward to the four seasons; each very different, mostly independent, and each with a personality of its very own.
Observing the changes and appreciating their differences is something I look forward to and always enjoy, but I have to say that no season is as desired or anticipated as is spring.
I love fall’s colors, I love the first snows, I love that first heat and seeing the return of summer’s freckles on my daughters cheeks, but it’s the spring season that lifts me like no other season does.
Winter leaves me parched and drained, but spring quenches my thirst for renewal; for purpose. As winter leaves and spring makes its first appearance, I am re-energized and ready to face the world.
I get the blues in winter; I drag my feet and waste time thinking of better days. In comes spring, and my pace is quickened. I feel stronger, lighter, and I start making plans. Plans for cleanup, for visits and vacations, for new projects, for life.
Spring brings back life.
I don’t look forward to the cleanup of my garden, my patio, my deck, and all that’s involved after the ha3350598765_60c96806d4_zrshness of a northeastern winter, but I do look forward to the first buds and blossoms, and the emergence of grass that spent the last few months buried under a heavy white blanket, to suddenly and haphazardly reappear in the shape of random patches of green.
I love shedding my winter wear, feeling nature’s heat against my skin (instead of the stuffy heat coming from floorboards or a radiator), but more than anything else, I love seeing people just like me, once again in the outdoors, soaking the sun’s rays and claiming their heat as if it was their own.
I see a look of wonder and maybe even hope as neighbors emerge from their homes with purpose, but no rush to seek cover from the elements like they did just last week. And maybe it’s all in my imagination, but even so, green to me means birth, fresh, clean, and happier times and I welcome it with open arms.
A short time in my front yard and I find myself saying:
Hi Bob! Hi Fran! How are you doing Alfonso? How have you been Diane? Are your kids feeling better Karolina? Let’s get together one of these days Amy; let’s make the time.
It’s nice to be back.
And hey spring, it’s especially nice to have you back.

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