An Old Friend: Spring

Every year I am convinced that spring will never come again, so that when it does explode around me with the palpable “floof” of millions of tender green leaves and buds unfurling at once, I am so, so pleased.

In Northeast Tennessee, springtime says “Come and drink coffee on the back deck. Smell the honeysuckle and dogwood. If you come back later, you’ll see early fireflies at dusk.” It’s quite a show for all the senses.

https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1431444393712-19267bd26144?ixlib=rb-0.3.5&q=80&fm=jpg&crop=entropy&s=ed229ac1b7d3bf6a9704c027f7576db1

My kids are doing their part to bring in the warm season, running and squealing with joy in their bare feet and smearing themselves and each other with mud-paint. The symbols they make are intelligible only to natives of their world.

I almost remember the language. Almost.

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