Spring in Love

warm weather

In New England, spring hits like an amphetamine.

It’s the forever-winter that makes it like this—the months and months of frozen and sunless days that leech every last ounce of your vitality until you think you’ll never feel human again. Until . . . at the last possible moment, just when you’ve given up the last of your hopes and dreams, there comes a sudden paroxysm of light and warmth. There is water in New England, and good soil, so when this gentle conflagration happens, all of the dormant living things wake up and race out into the great glad greening season, trampling the pale, dutiful daffodils, and thrusting their myriad fronds, stems, shoots, and buds skyward. Lilac, magnolia and azalea shout their colors. Fruit trees wave branches heavy with showy blooms, sending sprays of yellow-green pollen to coat windshields and street gutters. Even the evergreens get a little crazy during this time, stretching phthalo green fingertips from otherwise stately branches.

The whole world goe…