Spring is filled with loveliness and beauty; it is the everyday miracle of life and the wonder of survival. Spring is leaping lambs and mewling kittens; flowers bursting color out of the gray and grass suddenly fresh with new growth. Spring is buds on trees and the taste of dirt in the air from plowed fields. Spring is freshly-mowed grass in your nose and charcoal-tasting hot dogs in your mouth. Spring is yard work and spurts of cleaning and hours with sidewalk chalk. Spring is a rainbow of bubbles floating in the breeze and dandelion crowns in your hair. Spring is sliding fast and swinging high. Spring is the gentle easing into summer heat, the gentle easing out of winter cold. Spring is pop-up thunderstorms and sudden tornadoes and the smell that lingers after. Spring is dirt under your fingernails and sweat under your neck. Spring is white shiny shoes and sunscreen smeared on your nose. Spring is drowsy sitting at ballgames and picnics on blankets. Spring is small hands picking new tulips and squeals from the top of the slide. Spring is freedom from the confines of the four walls and afternoons at the park instead of the laundry room. Spring is late afternoon ice cream and laundry decorating the line.
Spring is sprinting to get the fields planted and late nights working and worrying. Spring is Sunday morning phone calls (unanswered – he doesn’t work Sundays, no matter which farmer you are!) and cherishing odd moments together. Spring is a cat nap in the sun with golf on in the background while a small one curls up in your lap. Spring is fishing if you can steal moments from the day, and not caring if you catch a thing so long as you stand in the cold water and feel the warm breeze on your face. Spring is squinting to read a book you’re holding with one hand and using the other one to keep the swing moving.