Spring is the verbiest of seasons. It is that time in which all the world is a verb. Springtime things are not content to settle. They have to grow, to change, to flower. They find a way to make being what they are the most exciting of actions. Trees that have slept all winter start greening and sapping and leafing and living and treeing, and it never fails to leave me bursting with excitement. Springtime happys me. It warms, it swells, it lives. Springtime doesn't just change silently. It sings, it flies, it runs, it smells. It smells like life and sunshine. Birds come back, and they wake and they fly and they sing and the treetops bird with joyfulness. It isn't spring yet. Not by a long shot. But it is springing outside, and that's the most exciting thing of all. Can you feel it yet, see it, smell it, taste it on the wind? 'Cause I'm starting to be able to. Just a little.
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