As the title of this posting implies, this is a mixture of thoughts about the season of Spring. I have always found this time of the year to be up-lifting. Hopefully, the “potpourri” provided here will put some “spring” into your step. :-)
For winter’s rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837–1909)
Atalanta in Calydon (1865)
At last, the Spring season has arrived. From my point of view, spring is the most beautiful season of the year. A rebirth and refreshing time for all of us. It is a time in which we have a sense of renewal. As I do yard work – preparing for the growing season – I notice how the birds and other animals have a sense of exuberance. They seem to have a big smile on their faces. Ah, at last, winter is over!
We have experienced the vernal equinox. From now, until the autumnal equinox, we will have more daylight than darkness. Less “in the dark” and more “in the light.” There’s a metaphor someplace in that previous sentence. :-)
Welcome to the light! You are now enlightened!
Let the sunshine in! Light dominates darkness! Etc., etc…….
Let’s end with some “appropriate” words from the musical, State Fair, that have been sung by many, including Frank Sinatra. As you read the following words, you will notice that the song is proclaiming that it is not spring. I realize that, but there is an intangible quality about the verse that makes me feel like it is spring. Since it is spring, it might as well be spring. :-)
I’m as restless as a willow in a windstorm,
I’m as jumpy as puppet on a string.
I’d say that I had spring fever,
But I know it isn’t spring.
I am starry-eyed and vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing
Oh, why should I have spring fever
When it isn’t even spring?
I keep wishing I were somewhere else,
Walking down a strange new street.
Hearing words that I’ve never heard
From a girl I’ve yet to meet.
I’m as busy as a spider spinning daydreams,
I’m as giddy as a baby on a swing.
I haven’t seen a crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin on the wing.
But I feel so gay, in a melancholy way,
That it might as well be spring
It might as well be