If I can use one word that describe spring for me, it’s "rush." And "mud." Ok, two words.
I have nothing against Spring, but I’m always in a hurry for it to be over. Growing up in Wisconsin, we weren’t really free-and-clear of any late season snowstorms until April. Imposing the Easter Bunny on the land when there’s still a noticeable amount of snow on the ground, strains the very elements of logic.
Rebirth, my ass.
So, the quicker we blast through spring, the quicker we’re safely in the realm of summer, and the quicker we’re out of winter’s long reach.
If you just moved to Florida, you’d have nothing more to bitch about.
Also, Disney World. Hooray!
In addition, Spring always seems to engulf me in copious amounts of mud. This is probably because I’m in such a damn hurry to rid myself of winter, that I engage in springtime activities ridiculously early. I’d be the one trying to ride my bike in March with ice still on the ground. Needless to say, I’d fall in the mud.
It doesn’t stop there. In college, a friend and I attempted to fly kites in April. The ground was still rock hard, but we didn’t let that deter us. We walked downtown, purchased some kites, and ran back and forth over the playing field in front of our dorm trying to launch our kites skyward. I don’t think I had flown a kite for 10 years, so it took a few tries to get the kite in the air.
There were three notable events surrounding this victory. One was that a kind but misguided young man bum-rushed us, proclaiming his joy at finding other kite-fliers.
Him: Oh my God! There are other kite enthusiasts here! Oh, man! What kind of kites are you flying?
Us: Er...um...they came from the store?
Him: blink. blink, blink.
Us: Sorry. We don’t really fly kites that much. We just wanted to get outside now that the weather is nicer.
Him: Oh....ok. Well, if you ever want to fly kites, let me know.
The second notable event was that we both got sunburned. Badly. Apparently having skin that can only kindly be described as “alabaster” is no match for April sunshine capable of warming the earth to a whopping forty degrees.
The third notable event was that was that, despite the ground being completely frozen, I still managed to find the sole mud-puddle, and inadvertently sink my right foot ankle-deep in it. It was a portent of things to come.
The mild temperatures continued for the next few days, and I was emboldened to take a long walk on campus. I walked to the top of one of the highest hills, and looked over one of the lakes forming the isthmus that my college-town sat on. The vastness of the sky and water makes it look like you’re standing in a big blue sphere. I felt a wave of calm wash over me.
Full of joy, I took one step further and thought, “Wow, the ground is kind of squishy.” And with that, I slipped and fell down the length of the hill, only to end up in yet another mud puddle.
I trudged back to my dorm, covered head to toe in mud, garnering the concern of my fellow dorm-mates.
Them: Oh my god, what happened?
Me: I fell down a hill.
Them: Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the health clinic?
Me: Uhh...No. No I do not.
I got to repeat this exchange about ten more times. Unfortunately, there’s no cure for klutziness.
Long story short, I have nothing against spring, only that it’s too wet. Bring it on!