By Charles
I have to get this out of the way up front: Spring is the second worst season of the year. True, it is not as bad a summer, but it is always a harbinger of doom; the onset of some of my least favorite parts of the year. -Allergies. If you have them, you know, and if you don’t then consider yourself blessed. Living in a constant self-medicated state and wondering when it will be safe to walk out the door without feeling my throat instantly turn into sandpaper is one of the signs that spring has arrived. -Mowing. It’s loud and dirty and kicks up the aforementioned allergies. The weather also has to be just right at the right time when you are available to mow, or you have to hack through a forest of grass a week later when you finally are free again. -Heat. While not a constant oppressive force yet like the latter parts of July and the month of August, the pleasant sweater weather and snuggly pajamas while sipping hot tea are gone and replaced by a constant sense of everything being slightly warmer than I am ready for it to be.
I am not just a curmudgeon though. Spring does have a primordial surge of energy that I can’t help but appreciate. For example, a lazy spring weekend always feels like fishing time and I often am tempted to cast out a line and see what bites (despite my intense displeasure for touching both worms and fish). It also is a time for the neighborhood critters to have their next generation, and while I am a little skittish about squirrels, seeing a baby bunny hopping around the yard is heart-melting.
So I try to grab some of these fleeting moments: A puffy white tail hopping madly back to its warren, my kids running free and wild in a game of tag, the sunset across the lake. I hold them close as mental armor to cool me off through the trials of summer, until October when I can once again pull out my lightweight jackets and pumpkin spice, and live again.