It’s always been the most interesting to me to live in places where there are seasons. I like the change and I like cold weather and sweaters and I like snow, but mostly I like spring.
January 1st has never meant much to me – new beginnings, fresh starts and all that – but spring…
You can see and feel the newness, the change. The earth sends out its green little scouts, then armies of color follow close behind, and it’s like life has begun anew. You feel enough chill to remind of you of what’s been, and there are those April showers, but the sunlight never seems crisper than now.
I don’t know if the first Easter happened in March or April – for all I know it was November – but it’s always seemed to me that it makes the most sense to celebrate it in springtime. A great story of rebirth resonates more when you can step outside and see rebirth in action. With color and warmth come hope.
The tulip is my favorite flower, with the daffodil right behind. Do I love them because of their season, or vice versa? It doesn’t matter. They enrich and encourage me when I see them.
The glories of spring make me happy.