"In the Spring, I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of four and twenty hours."
My friendlings, if Spring in Philadelphia is an old miser grumbling all the way to the mailbox in slippers and in slush, who happens to spot an unassuming crocus growing rogue upon his lawn and takes a brief moment to smile before surrendering to his overcast disposition once more,
if Spring in Atlanta is the aftermath of a giant pinata, smashed with thunderous storm blows, dispelling a stifling powdery yellow coating upon everything in its vicinity, to the screaming and joyeous delight of the bees and the angst of my watery-eyed mother,
then Spring in Boulder is a schizophrenic puppy dog, bounding with great enthusiasm through various elements and atmospheres, utterly unable to decide which toy is best to play with.
There was snow on the ground yesterday morning. Today the wind blows freezing, but the sun shines warm. The trees are budding outside my bedroom window.
(This is a good sign, seeing as everyone knows that the trees know best when Spring is truly to come. Damn the camera-shy groundhog. When was the last time he didn't see his shadow?) The magic MacWeatherButton promises rising highs through the weekend, with a grand culmination around the brilliant 72 degrees Fahrenheit. O blessed, blessed promise.
This is the time of year that I remember that though I've strayed far from the Old Red Hills, inside my chest beats the heart of Southern Belle and a Steel Magnolia. After March is over, the coldest thing I want in my life is a mint julep.
My blood tells me it's time to start finding a derby hat that would do Eliza proud,
start frying up the green tomatoes,
start sitting on the deck at every possible moment and stock up on Vitamin D, start siphoning heroine novellas into my "Best Novels Ever Written" reading list (one cannot be expected to read Under the Volcano while basking in the sun. That sort of atmosphere is made for guilty pleasures).
And then there are the inclinations that pulse deeper than just the blood. The grand promise of Spring. I'm ready.
"Out with the cold, in with the woo."
-E. Marshall, "Spring Thought"
photos: by Snowflakeskiss from tumblr, Gloriosity LCT Delaware Valley 2008, by Lonely Pierot from Deviantart, from Bedifferentactnormal.blogspot, Puppy from tumblr, by Chrrristine from flickr, Girl in Window from pixdaus.com, mint julep from urbzen.files.wordpress, My Fair Lady image from CaneNews.com, fried green tomato tower from food.tv, What, no machine guns? from bighappyfunhouse.com, Always by _kittysyellowjacket from deviantART.