Sunday, March 18, 2012


I know that the Pagans of the world will beat me up for saying this, but Spring is here, Equinox or no Equinox. The weather is warm, the grass is green, and trees and bushes are blossoming everywhere. It is glorious.

And I'm curled up in the fetal position, consuming every allergy product known to man.

But that will not stifle my love for this season - my favorite by a landslide.

I spent twelve years in New York City, and every year around March, I could be heard whining and moaning and, as is said in that fair city, kveching about the sheer LACK of anything resembling a real Spring. Sure, there are flowering trees, many of which are located in the picturesque neighborhood known as Park Slope, Brooklyn, where we used to live. Yes, there is a short patch of temperate weather between the frozen winter and the sweltering summer. And yes, the minute the manicured toenails and arms were bared, men and women both resembled their animal cousins in the wild, eyeing each other ravenously to check for compatibility. But, New Yorkers, I must tell you that this is not Spring.

Spring is daffodils poking up at the beginning of March (which is why they're known as "March flowers" in these parts). Spring is day after day after day of weather where you need a sweater in the morning, short sleeves in the afternoon, and a sweater again in the evening. Spring is that hail storm that manifests out of nowhere and is gone in twenty minutes. Spring is cowering in your basement, at least a couple of times each season, praying that the tornado won't come near you. Spring is sitting on a porch swing, singing a favorite song, and stopping whenever someone walks by. Spring is lying in the grass and watching clouds transform before your eyes. Spring is running into your friends at the local farmer's market. Spring is deciding how you want to spend your Derby Day. Spring is knowing you can actually get comfortable and enjoy this season, without that dread that it could disappear at any moment.

I'm home again. There's a lot I miss about New York. Friends, first and foremost; brownstones; crazy characters roaming the streets and subways; the knowledge that this is New York, and nothing can ever compare.

But I am so grateful to be back in Kentucky for the Spring. And though my eyes may water, my nose may run, and I might be hacking up some strange-looking things right now, I'm so happy to be home!

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