There is something about that first weekend of warm weather that can all but break your heart. One minute you are shoveling obscene amounts of snow and a few short weeks later you are trimming back the perennial garden and marveling at the crocus blooming all over the neighborhood.
Ok, a little corny. But honestly, I never tire of those first warm days when nothing can seem all that bad if you can be outside and feeling the sunshine. One day walking around the city, drinking beer at an outdoor cafe and people watching, and another in the ‘burbs doing what we ‘burbanites do was the perfect cure for anything that ails.
I suppose my elation with spring is because I come from a family of garden junkies. My earliest memories of my grandfather were of him tending to his garden, which in my youth was beyond magnificent. My mom’s love of the garden was passed down to both my brother and I. And although in the past few years her bones have fallen victim to a couple of, what shall we call them, garden mishaps, she still plugs away out there and her garden shines for all the attention she showers upon it.
Even though this weekend was a fleeting tease of spring finding ourselves thrown back into a stint of miserable rain, it was just enough of a taste to keep us hopeful that the warmer weather will be here to stay before we know it.
Spring. It almost makes you feel like anything is possible.
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