My day lilies aren’t out yet. The maple leaves are small and timid. Nights are cool, rain is soft. But the tulips are all done now.
It gets to me. I feel like spring is all over, and we’re into the brassy brightness of summer, driving me into the sterile air-conditioned indoors. No, I want to say. I’m not ready. It’s the sweetness in the air I really love. The first time I lift my face to the sky and breathe deeply, feeling my soul uncurl after winter’s brutal grip finally eases. Summer is boisterous, athletic playtime; spring is first love. Can’t we hold onto that a little longer?
Oh, well. Trying to hang onto spring is like trying to keep your children from outgrowing cuddles and naps. And I enjoy my children as the adults they have become with an intensity that has never faded. But still, when I look back on their toddler photos, I sigh. As much as I have gained, I have also lost something worth acknowledging.
So, farewell, spring. See you next year.