Signs of Spring

Anyone who's read my blog posts this winter knows that it's not my favorite season, to say the least.

However, that doesn't mean that I wish to bid it adieu forever.

Having always lived in the midwest, where we get a healthy dose of all four seasons, I can't imagine living elsewhere. The cyclical nature of extreme temperatures, separated by those wonderful mild seasons, is comforting and predictable. Just about the time when we get tired of one season -- too hot or too cold -- it's time for a welcome change.

So winter is not my favorite season. But I love experiencing it anyway. There are parts of it I like (snow, warm fires inside, skiing). But, for me, winter's main asset is its contrast to spring and summer. Experiencing the cold temperatures causes a delicious anticipation for warm air; a gentle breeze; that damp, sweet smell of spring.

And on those first warm days of spring, after the long absence, I find myself inexplicably doing gymnastics on the lawn. I can't really help it; I've performed this ritual since childhood, every spring. The exuberance I feel for the change of seasons just cannot be contained, and spills out and tumbles over. (I'm sure my neighbors think it's odd. But it makes me happy.)

As I say my good-byes to winter, I say, with honesty: I'm not sad to see you go, but I will gladly welcome you again next year!