Why? Because it's spring-- if not by the calendar, then at least by
|the melted snow|
|and buds on the trees|
and the wild mustard and the robins and earthworms and tulips and the warm sunshine.
And in my heart spring is here. It's pumping through me to my hands that want to dig into the dirt to plant things, to my feet that want to tramp through the yard and woods, to my nose that breathes in all the smells of green and dirt and freshness, and to my ears that listen for the next squeal or shout from a child just discovering another sign of new life in the great outdoors.
Like Christmas, spring is a time that is internalized, so anticipated that it isn't just about a date on the calendar anymore. It more like a promise of joy and life. And that promise lifts the weight of winter off my shoulders, making me near giddy.