"Spring is sprung

the grass is ris

I wonder where

the birdies is..."

 -Anon

My paternal grandmother taught me this little poem, which is ironic, because as a former schoolteacher, she was always, but always, a stickler for correct grammar and proper pronunciation.  She also taught me how to hold a pen correctly, and to form my letters properly.  "Hold your hand like this, so that it looks like a little birdy's head," she would say.  "Then rest the end of the pen on your other finger, like so, and let your arm sweep across the page.  Don't just move your wrist."  As I tried to sweep my arm across the page, with not very much success, she looked at my (very) skinny arm, and said tartly, "Well, there's not any padding here for you to move, is there?"  :)

I have always liked spring (who doesn't, really?), even with the mess of mud and puddles and laundry and such.  I have always gotten rather, shall we say, distracted, in the spring.  My mother has always referred to this as "spring fever".  As I've gotten older, I've called it something else entirely - allergies.  My head is stuffy, and spinny, and it is hard to concentrate on any one thing.  But, it is SPRING!!  There are flowers blooming on trees and bushes and in the grass.  The sunshine is warm and relaxing.  The air is fresh and alive.  (It is also not-so fresh with the smell of *ahem* natural fertilizers being spread, but whatever. ;)  We are out in only t shirts, or shirts and hoodies, and we need to start putting on sunblock very soon.  

It is warm.  

It is blissful.  

It is Spring!

(Note the little orange tree, and the lavender... *sigh...*)

 (Blossoms on a tree at the parking lot across from the school.)