Spring and I have always had a love-hate relationship. Spring in Colorado is usually just an extension of winter, followed by a few weeks of ugly,dirty slush covering the ground. It’s pretty much the same here in Chicago. But I’ve been in deep winter hibernation for months now and this warm weather is a breath of fresh air–literally. I’m actually looking forward to stepping outside and feeling the sun on the skin. I’m anxious to show off my legs that have been covered since October (it might not be a pretty sight for a few weeks) and to NOT wear wool socks. For the first time, I’m looking at the spring season as the symbol it should be: a fresh start.
It’s probably the greatest feeling walking out of your house and smelling the rain from the night before. The ground is still damp and the air is a little clammy. It’s a little brisk, but the wind feels good against the skin. When I was little I would walk through the grass barefoot because the dew was nice and cold compared to the warming sun. I remember seeing tulip bulbs popping out of the soil, ready to show themselves off. The cherry blossoms on the tree at the next door playground would start to bud. I remember picking off the crab apples with my sister and trying to eat them, even though each time we did, we’d spit them out immediately.
Spring is a time to try new things, reconsider old things, and to get rid of unnecessary things. It’s like a second New Years.
This post is short and sweet, just like the springs in Chicago, because soon enough summer will be here and I will be miserably hot for 3 months. I will enjoy these sweet days of fresh air and cool mornings. I will enjoy the aroma of wet dirt and budding flowers.
“It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.”
-Rainer Maria Rilke