As the poet observed, spring comes slowly up this way. But it does get here; officially it is here today, when the sun finally winds up its long vacation below the equator and heads back north.
Spring. Even the word is just right; all its different meanings seem to fit. A ”spring” can be a leap in the air, or the source of a river, or a coil of metal wound up, full of stored-up pep and ready to jump; all things having to do with thawing, running, growth, energy, letting go. And they all chime in harmony with ”spring,” as in springtime.
It is the time when nature lets out a slow sigh of relief. Sky and earth get over their chilly estrangement and start to appreciate each other again. And winter finally lurches away–this one a particularly mean-spirited, slit- eyed, sneering sort of winter, one that hung around the front yard for months muttering, ”OK, punks, let`s see how tough you are.”
The only improvement one could suggest for spring is a slightly faster pace; a quicker, more dramatic contrast with winter. By now we`ve had a chance to get used to warmer weather, and aren`t as grateful for it as we would have been, say, on the 27th straight day of sub-freezing temperatures last February.
But that is not a complaint. Anybody who wouldn`t take the effort to enjoy the coming of spring can just stay indoors and get his kicks by adjusting the thermostat.
