Winter is my favorite season but only because it brings me Christmas, my favorite holiday, but other than that, springtime is the season that I look forward to the most. With its warm, gentle, comforting spirit, it finally chases the cold, cold winter away and helps me and everything else thaw out from winter's brutal beating. With the advent of spring, the earth and its inhabitants spring back to life in this most beautiful and welcomed season.
Now let me explain this. I'm sure we all know that the actual seasons don't correspond exactly with the day on the calendar. For instance, in the country, the first signs of springtime for me are not necessarily when the date arrives on the calendar but when the weather is warm enough to shed my winter clothes; not have to wear shoes outside; and when the first daffodil appears. Now, that is when "my" springtime actually arrives.
During this refreshing time of the year the air is clean and the earth appears washed in the finest and sweetest smelling laundry detergent. Everything is new and brightly colored and so soothing to the body and soul. On the first day of spring, I breathe a sigh of relief. I am like a calf let out of the stall — foot loose and fancy free. Hip, hip, hooray, it's time to go "bare-footing it through the park," or in our case, through the woods and meadows.
I love the flowers of spring. I could hardly wait until the first frilly, yellow daffodils popped their heads up from the cool, spring soil. When I saw those first fashionably, dressed beauties, I knew spring had sprung. It's amazing how everything in nature knows when the seasons change. In spring, just at the right time, they impatiently burst out of hiding and get busy with whatever they have to do during this warm, inviting and enjoyable season.
The butterflies dance out of hiding and start kissing the sweetly-smelling flowers. They appear too happy as they flit and frolic from blossom-to-blossom, just kissing up a storm.
Then, the bees start buzzing, especially around the honeysuckles that hung gracefully on the vines overlapping the walls near the old, country school house. You could smell their fragrance a mile away. I just loved to tip-toe up to them (as though I thought they were going to suddenly disappear) and gently pull those stems from the center of their little, sweet-smelling bellies. There is a delicious collection of juice (nectar) that I sucked out of every honeysuckle flower that I could. I did that to keep the bees from getting to them first, but, I'm sure they got their share of nectar too as the flowers bloomed and lingered there for quite a spell.