Spring Spring Spring

I never noticed Spring while growing up in South Florida. Everything here is always green, always blooming, always sprouting. With the exception of eagerly awaited Mango and Lychee flowers, Spring was no big thing.

Then I left for school in Chicago and Spring became everything. I often thought it was the best free advertisement my school had at its fingertips. If the year had ended mid-Winter, frozen solid and unbearably frigid, who would ever return to it? Instead we emerged from the ice into the long awaited warmth of a newly green world. We were wreathed in flowers and broke free from our icy cloisters. Thank heaven for Spring! I relished each day and loved every detail of this newly appreciated season...well, except for when the kids from Minnesota would rip off their shirts when it was still 40 degrees outside for a riotous game of frisbee that looked more like a horror film entitled "Attack of the Zombie Yogurt People." With that small exception, I really grew to eagerly anticipate and even live for the coming of Spring. Every day I woke up with a bursting energy akin to an MGM musical spectacular, especially if said musical revolved around strapping men with macho bible names who danced at barn raisings with the only hot ladies in town bedecked in gingham dresses of every color....but I digress. Spring is intoxicating, a definite love drug. I fell quickly and happily under its spell while I lived up North.

Now I'm back home again. In the land of eternal heat and summer, where everything is forever green green green. I am on the watch for Spring, it means new things for my garden. Those intense tropical rains will come and our lawns will take on a radioactive mutant strain of vigorous, unmerciful, unstoppable growth. I am naturally curious to see what will happen to my garden under these tropic circumstances.

But this year, Spring feels a bit like a children's book on the subject. You know the part! When the large wooden doors of the great red barn are finally thrown open to reveal that every animal within has had quite the busy winter. Lambs, piglets, ducklings, chicks, calfs, foals, are on hand at every page turn to bleat or moo an enthusiastic greeting and give us a fresh sense of newness and wonder. That is what Spring feels like at my house this year. Yes, at times like a barn filled to the lofts with animals and mayhem. But also with newness and wonder. First steps, new teeth, new words, new ideas (both angelic and sneaky), and beautiful moments of new discovery. My little lambs are finding out what they like. I am discovering their personalities. We are growing and finding our footing together. I'm so glad that while they unwrap the possibilities of what it means to be a child, I am also learning how to be a parent. It takes the pressure off, I think. How much more difficult to be a new parent to an expert child.

I taught the Bear how to say "Spring" which, when pronounced by him, sounds a bit like something read off a Chinese menu. He has learned so many words since Christmas I've lost count. Cubby has taken off. Literally. Like a rocket filled with charisma, Cubby can walk, smile and wave with the ease of a Presidential candidate. He has moves. Really, he does. I see it when he flirts with women at the grocery store while I shop for him. I love his sneaky smile and his five teeth.

Lastly, something else continuously reminds me of Spring and brings me hope that the recent season of coldness and death has passed, and not just because the reason makes me pee all the time. As the shock wears off, we are overwhelmed and truly AMAZED that this little one is still alive and well. We get to see him/her for the first time in a week and I am eager to hear that courageous little heartbeat.