I know many people whose favorite season is fall. They enjoy the cooler temperatures and the leaves changing color. Now, I will admit some of the trees in my town are very interesting to gaze at, with the leaves a bright yellow or deep orange or red. Although I enjoy the turning leaves, it only means something is dying. Somehow, death bringing beauty seems a bit morbid. Also, cooling temperatures in the fall mean winter’s cold ice and snow are looming ahead. Every year I vow to leave the frigid land of Iowa and travel anywhere south.
Summer I enjoy even when the temperatures reach the triple digit mark and for me, summer doesn’t last nearly as long as it should. August arrives, the kids are back at school, people are bellowing for football and I’m crying, “Wait! Hold onto this a little longer, shall we?”
Spring, though. Ah, lovely spring. My favorite season for many reasons beyond leaving behind the cold temperatures.
What’s the line from the Tennyson poem? “In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.” Or some such malarkey that doesn’t pertain to me because I don’t have a girlfriend. Okay, that’s another story for another time, so let’s move on.
I enjoy the time before the first crops come up and start restricting the view.
I enjoy the time before the pesky insects emerge from hibernation or wherever they’ve been during winter.
The cool mornings promising warm afternoons.
The ever lengthening time when the sun is still above the horizon.
Pretty women wearing clothing that shows off their beauty.
The first firing up of the grill and the initial sizzle of meat.
Various breeds of dogs happily exploring the newness of the land while out for a walk with their owners.
When the brown grass turns green and I wonder how long my landlord will wait this year before mowing the lawn for the first time.
The too short time period when the corner lilac bush blooms dusty purple and offers its subtly intoxicating scent.
The chance to sweat outside during a workout.
The glorious light and sound show of a thunderstorm.
Sitting out on the balcony with a book while counting how many people run the stop sign at the intersection and wondering how many accidents will occur this year.
Hoping the Cubs don’t blow it again this year.
Hoping the Cardinals do.
Nights off spent at the river with a campfire and an audio book or just enjoying the sounds of the river and the crackling wood.
Exploring the countryside without the risk of the car sliding off into the ditch because of black ice.
This year I think I might volunteer to drive senior citizens around the bike and walking path in a tram.
Listening to children laugh and play in the park.
Another reason I enjoy spring so much is there are so many places to write. All winter long I’m cooped up at work, messing with the thermostat to reach the most comfortable temperature for me. I spend hours in quiet solitude (because I work the graveyard shift) and so I have plenty of time to read and write. When the warmer weather allows me more hours outdoors, I can drive to the park or down to the riverside, take a beverage and either my laptop or a notepad and pen, sit at a picnic table, and ‘spring’ into the writing zone. Fresh air means fresh ideas and a renewed enthusiasm for putting down those ideas on paper…to later edit and fret about and read to a critique group and edit some more…you get the idea.
Spring means winter’s chill is over and looking forward to a few months of warm sunshine.
Now if I can just do something about bringing that Tennyson poem to fruition…
Stephen, thank you for guesting today and sharing your thoughts on Spring, also my favorite season.
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