Spring

I don’t really care that the exact moment when the sun is directly over the equator comes on March 20 most years. Equinox squeecanox. To me spring begins on March 21 and that’s that. No question about it. Why? Spring is my birthday present, mine personally. And that means it comes on March 21.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “spring.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

3 thoughts on “Spring”

  1. Spring. The sign of nature’s rebirth. I can venture to say that nature resembles a person’s phases of life and spring is akin to the beginning—colorful and innocent. This is followed by the younger years, which would be equivalent to summer—vibrant and full of energy; middle age would entail autumn—subdued and introspective. Finally, old age would be represented by winter—gray and bleak at times. The good thing about nature is that it renews itself on a yearly basis. Unfortunately, humans don’t have that capacity.

  2. A happy belated b’day to you since you celebrate on the 21st! I’m not certain it’s really truly Spring because three to five inches of snow is predicted in our part of the world on this coming Monday. This follows that huge Nor’ easter that whipped through just a while ago. And that was preceded by unusually warm temps which completely confused all the Spring flowering bulbs planted last Fall along our curving front path. I did glimpse a couple of brave chipmunks peeking their little brown furry heads out of the spaces between our huge granite boulders on the property. However, they’ve now decided to stay back in their winter homes where it’s a lot more cozy. Just hoping those little creatures don’t decide to dine on the daffodil, tulip, and hyacinth bulbs underground. Who the heck knows what Spring will be like with the erratic global warming weather we’ve been experiencing? It’s truly bizarre!

  3. The palette of my life is seasonal each with its own distinct flavor. Spring is my pistachio. The begining of glorious greens the best is yet to come.

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