Perhaps I’ve said this a thousand times, but, to me, it bears repeating. Wintertime, with the exception of Christmas and its snowy landscape, is not my favorite season. So when springtime blows its warm breath across the land as though it’s flexing its muscles and Old Man Winter “tucks its tail” and slyly creeps away, my spirits rise. On the other hand, maybe I shouldn’t badmouth winter so much, because after all, if it didn’t come, then spring wouldn’t come either.
Nevertheless, I am relieved when this brutally cold season fades into springtime’s background.
I now live in a part of the U.S. where the seasons aren’t so pronounced, but even still, we do have a slight winter. But when I think back on those unusually long, childhood winters, it seems I get cold all over again. I see those heavy coats and hats and shoes and all my heavy, uncomfortable but necessary cold weather gear that I had to wear just to be reasonably warm, if there is such a thing. For me, though, seems like I was always cold, and when spring started peeping over Mr. Winter’s shoulders, I became one happy little camper.
I could hardly wait until I could remove my winter coat for good and put everything “winter” as far back in the closet as they would go. Actually, I like springtime because it, like the New Year, is a new beginning and a new lease on life – even though the year is well on its way. I love to open the windows and doors and walk outside in the yard and field without having to rush back inside because of the cold. I love the freshness of springtime’s air, the beauty of flowers in bloom and the sound of bees buzzing past my ear … and, of course, spring isn’t spring without those chirping birds making my favorite sounds. I love the smell of fresh, green grass and the feel of it as it cushions my feet from the not yet hot, summer ground.
In the springtime, we’d open the doors, air the house out and do spring cleaning. Even though no fruit is ripe yet, we still checked the berry vines and plum trees…just in case they produced early. With the advent of spring, just as flowers burst into bloom, my joys blossom too, and like a new colt let out of its stall, I am more than ready to dance to those melodious tunes that each leaf in springtime plays.