Loving Spring

By Angie Bromeland

My favorite season is spring. It’s when frozen things are thawing, growing things are hatching, and blooming things are blossoming for the first time all year. The grassy lawn goes from brown and crusty to soft and green. It’s finally warm enough that we can draw colorful pictures with chalk all over the driveway. Everything seems fresh and alive after the long cold winter. Dad tells me that’s a skewed version of things, just as spring seems chilly and wet compared to the middle of July, but I still think I’m right.

Today, I’ve zipped up my favorite blue hooded sweatshirt, and slipped a notebook in my front pocket. I’m going on a spring walk, and I’m going to record every spring thing I find. I sing a happy song as I walk down the path to the pond. My older sister would say, “Stop, Hattie! It’s so awkward to sing by yourself outside.” But I don’t think so. I notice a mother red-tailed hawk gliding into her nest and feeding her chicks some bugs. I write it down in my notebook. As I sit in the tall reeds near the pond, I hear a bluebird singing her favorite song. I write it down. I yank a stalk of thick grass out of the ground and notice how pale and white it is at the bottom, compared to the bright green point at the top. I write it down.

It’s awfully soothing to sit by a pond in spring. I close my eyes and feel the soft breeze play across my cheeks. In the winter, the same breeze would sting and bite at my skin. Now, it’s like the downy fuzz of a newborn chick. I guess you could say I have spring on my mind. And I don’t mind it one bit.