Spring is clearly in the air around here. A couple days ago it rained sheets all day long. When I came home from work that night, there were about eight or ten Spring Peepers clinging to the front door and porch. I hear their continual screeching in the distance around the pond, but most especially late in the evening and after dark.
This afternoon I played outside with the kids and the pup in our shirtsleeves. As we made our way across the front lawn towards the backyard, Dear Son stopped suddenly and exclaimed, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!" in an awestruck little toddler voice. He squatted down to look, and I realized what he saw as his chubby little fingers reached down and plucked the first bright yellow dandelion of the season.
This would all be fabulous and uplifting if I liked spring, but I really don't. Spring means that in addition to frogs coming out, but so do the bugs. And we have a lot of bugs out here in the country. And spring is also a constant reminder that summer comes next, and I hate summer more than any other season. Summer means hot, muggy weather...and of course...BUGS!
I think I liked spring and summer a lot more when I lived in the Pacific Northwest. The weather was generally much nice, and the bugs were much much fewer and much much smaller.