"Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself."
It's almost there. I can smell it. Bouts of lightheadedness and meaningless giggles. The ticklish ache of life stirring to burst out of the tightly closed buds. The awakening of tiny blades of grass with gentle, dewy paws. The restless robins join the impatient, hoarse calls of the crows. One less layer stripped from the confused, stuffy mask of clothing. The more than usual spell of blue sky, even here, in the perennial rain abode.
Spring sure is in the air. It sure is about to spring somewhere.