Short sleeves. Zip up sweatshirts. Playing outside. Bike rides. Sunshine. The sunroof is open in the car. The tulips and the daffodils are two inches out of the soil.
It’s official; we have spring fever around here.
The past few days in the Chicago area have been full of blue skies, sunshine and 60 degrees. After close to four months of nothing but gray, freezing cold and snow, we couldn’t be happier.
The children are naive enough to think that this is it. Spring has officially arrived.
This is Chicago after all. That is why the weatherman has predicted snow and sleet for Sunday and Monday. But, I can’t bear to tell them what March is really all about. That lion and lamb nonsense. That they haven’t seen the last of the yuck yet. It’s still out there, on the horizon.
Just in time for outdoor soccer to begin. They’ll slosh through torrential rains. They’ll be covered in wet, goopy mud. At the same time, it’ll be freezing cold.
However, the air will smell different. Perhaps, it’s the trees blooming or the grass coming in. The rain will make everything green. It will wash away the drudgery of winter and usher in the true spring for which we are all longing.
What will this breath of fresh air carry with it?
The change that is eminent.
An end to the itch of winter.
The beginning of something.
I hope so. This fever is hot. Send in the rain of renewal.