Remember this?

“Spring is sprung, the grass is ris.
I wonders where the birdies is.
They say the birds is on the wing.
Ain’t that absurd?
I always thought the wing was on the bird.”


There must be as many poems about Spring as there are fish in the sea. Here in New Hampshire, we have had more than our rightful share of snow (seriously–it’s enough to last a lifetime), and we are more than happy to see it gone and have Spring begin.

So, tell me–what do you think of when you think of Spring? Do you go back to your childhood as I do and remember how you felt then? I remember feeling both giddy and dizzy at the same time, seeing that first patch of green grass, a yellow crocus bursting through the cold ground, and the sound of the peepers near the water. And the birds–gorgeous red cardinals and their shy olive-green wives, brilliant goldfinches, red-breasted robins, juncos, chickadees, nuthatches, and, near the water, great blue herons, ducks, Canadian geese, swans, cormorants, and, if you’re lucky, now and then a bald eagle.

Spring isn’t just about warm breezes, colorful flowers bursting through remnants of dirty snow or bird song. It’s about renewal–of spirit and the belief that this time, this Spring, everything is going to be great. It’s built into our DNA, this hopeful feeling that starts when the days grow longer and the evenings slip into rose-gold and amber negligees. Even our bodies and minds feel lighter. We are happy to shed our heavy, earth-bound coats and scarves and gloves and hats and boots. We pull out our happy colors for the warmer weather: turquoise and aqua, pink and purple, lime and deep blue, lemon and silver-gray.

We feel the silky teasing warmth on our pale skin, and the sun feels like a kiss on our cold faces. Our hopes and happiness burst through the gray and black gloom of a long and cold winter. We feel that anything is possible, and our spirits rise along with the slowly rising temps. The trees appear to have a light green glow; their leaves are ready to burst forth. Our lilac tree and our peony plants, which looked like stark sticks all through the winter days look somehow softer. They, too, feel the breath of spring and are ready to let their blossoms open in riots of dusky purple, pink and gold and raspberry.

Spring has the unique ability to make us young and silly all over again. In fact, this morning on April the 1st, fool or no, I give you this:

Spring is here, at last, at last!

The cold of winter has finally passed,

Our shivering skins are pale and wan

And so ready for the sun to shine upon.

Our once-heavy hearts are happy and glad,

And even daily chores don’t seem so bad.

Spring brings us hope and joy and colors bright–

And lifts our souls to lofty heights

No other time of year makes us as happy

Or makes our feet go tappy-tappy!

Old Man Winter’s gone, grumbling, to his icy clime,

While we all celebrate his leaving with gin and lime!

Happy Spring to one and all,

And it’s a long, long way to Fall!

Let’s enjoy it now with all our hearts

And livers and lungs and all our parts!










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