Growing up in New York, I hated spring. Mostly because we didn’t have one. Instead, we had a few gloomy weeks between winter and summer when snow and mud were indistinguishable, recess was confined to the basketball court-sized blacktop, and all the teachers got really cranky because the classroom rugs were inevitably covered in tiny, unvacuumable bits of dried mud.
My younger self, who prided herself on never getting in trouble, found the latter most distressing. There was never enough time to get the mud out of your treads after recess – we used twigs to scratch it out – and it dried too quickly to make it back outside at the end of the day. Thankfully (or otherwise), my pride escaped mostly intact, although now I'd probably make more of an effort not to get caught. But I guess it’s hard to escape when the evidence is on your feet...
Regardless, I never saw a decent spring until we moved to New England and I never experienced a glorious spring until my first semester in Virginia. The Northeast has fall pegged, man, but the Mid-Atlantic has spring all to itself. The weather is pitch-perfect, the trees are exploding with blossoms, and my allergies are – knock on wood – completely MIA. The Cherry Blossom Festival is forecasted to peak this weekend, so we’ll be going into D.C. on Sunday to revel in it all. It will be my birthday and I can’t think of a better way to turn the magical almost-old-but-not-quite number of 28! :)
What about you? How’s the first day of spring in your neck of the woods?
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