I am thankful for spring. All I can say as I bask in sunshiney bliss, is … “Hello, Lover.”

Just when you think you can’t possibly take another turtleneck or snow day, there spring is with

her veil of yellow pollen and bumble bee soldiers, freshly flipping the page for a new beginning.

The birds are up early and there are enough worms to go around.

The yards are abloom with azaleas and Easter egg trees.

Legs are everywhere … on runners, yard sale tables, lemonade stands, beetles, fire ants.

I push my sweaters to the back of my closet, prepping my triceps for their 2010 sleeveless

debut.

I paint my toes Passion Pink.

I feel warm, inside and out.

I open my windows and listen, listen, listen to nature’s jazz ensemble. The crickets on

percussion and the frogs, bass.

Sandals claim the straps that dresses shed.

I roll back my sunroof and let the air blow away my winter blues.

I behead strawberries and marvel at young colts on wobbly legs.

The days are long because why would you want to sleep when you can rise early for the

Farmer’s Market or stay late at the baseball game?

I am even happy to see the dandelions.

I remember that everything has a season and this is as fresh and new as they come.

Dogwoods bud and skirts shorten adorning bare quadriceps and hamstrings.

On my bicycle, I feel the free abandon of a 10 year-old.

I make excuses to stay outside just a little longer, hoping for the first firefly to beacon like a

lighthouse my yard.

I harvest flowers that my mom planted and wonder what kind of garden she must be

nurturing in the fertile soils of heaven.

I put my name on the list for outside seating.

I watch the ground, the world, the people, warm and soften.

I feel grateful, grateful, grateful that God is a God of many chances. Spring just might be the

only proof of that fact that I will ever need. The rest rides on faith and the smell of charcoal on

an April’s night.