I enjoy living in a place where we have a change of seasons; each has its own unique beauty for me. But there is no denying that winter can be a drag around here. (At least for me. For those who enjoy getting out and snowmobiling or cross country skiing, I’m sure it’s a regular yuk-fest. Not this gal.) Because this winter seemed to drag on for so long, and the spring was cooler than normal, I had a horrible case of spring fever. I love summer. I love the heat and even the humidity, within moderation (it can get a little much even for me). It is awfully gloomy around here in the winter, and it gets dull and brown.
But when spring starts popping, color comes back to the world. The grass has been greening up nicely, and tiny leaves are popping out on some of the trees. All of the spring bulbs are up, yellow and white daffodils, purple, pink, and white hyacinths, and red tulips.
I spent some time outside walking around the yard and picking up all the debris that accumulates during the winter. I was constantly distracted by all the little wildflowers in the grass: wild violets, both purple and white; tiny little white flowers; trilliums; and grape hyacinths everywhere under an elm tree, although I don’t remember planting any there. The blueberry bushes have tiny leaves forming, and the redbuds are going to blossom any day now.
It’s hard to adequately convey how wonderful this time of year is. That first hint of green and of flowers blossoming. How wonderful it feels to ditch the heavy clothes and walk around in next to nothing. The feeling of the sun on your skin, soaking up the rays like a sponge. Having the windows open, the fresh air, the sound of the house wren outside the bedroom window, building its nest and singing its little heart out.I’m always a pretty cheery person, but the past few days have me over the moon and walking on the sun.