April 13, 2010
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Aaahhh… The smell of spring. Relaxing, isn’t it? The scent of fresh dirt and blooming daffodils. Pollen fills my nose and I am reminded once again that this is a new year. Spring, unlike any of the other three seasons, is the season for growth and development. And the feel of the first new years rain. There is nothing quite like it.

When I look out my backyard window expanding over the two-acre meadow, I see a doe with her two fawns slowly treading from the dark and monotonous woods. The two little fawns look so small and happy with their tiny, tan bodies smothered in white spots against the vast, plush, green grass. The doe watches them, amused, as the two fawns play a quick game of tag. They run in large circles and try to outwit the other by jumping and twist turning, only to fall into the soft grass a little embarrassed. Their mother feeds on the new grass while keeping a wary eye on her young. After a while she calls out to them and the three of them scamper back into the safety of the dark woods. I smile because I know they’ll be back before long.

My attention is averted by the chirping of the song birds. Finally! It’s been months since I’ve heard them. It has always fascinated me how relatively few birds stay with the same mate throughout the year and from one year to another. Even though the same pair may be associated for several years, the relationship between them must be renewed at the beginning of each year. I listen in wonderment as the males serenade their mates with song after song, all the while trying to impress them by beating their tails against the tree and puffing up their colorful feathers. I wonder if all birds are that devoted to one another.

I step outside and feel a soft spatter on my arm. I look down to see the outlining of a raindrop as it runs down my arm. I look up to the cloudy skies to see the first rainfall of 2010. Whatever negative feelings I had about anything suddenly seem to be washed away like a relaxing massage as the soft rain slowly starts to soak the ground and everything touching it. A vibrant rainbow forms to my left, both ends disappearing behind the light green tree tops.

After grabbing my raincoat and muck boots from inside, I head back out with my two dogs in search of mud puddles. I smile widely when I see a large puddle forming in the basin of my back yard. My dogs seem to sense my excitement and run with me to tromp around in the puddle. After only a minute or two, the three of us have become muddy beyond comparison. I turn to my dogs and they pant, but eagerly wag their tails, slowly staring to whimper. The rain seems to be turning into a thunderstorm. The atmosphere feels thick on my tongue as if weighing me down. I like the sound of thunder, it relaxes me. My dogs don’t; it makes them nuts. I give in, and we head inside where they both receive a warm bath to rinse off any traces of mud should my parents find out. The thunderstorm appears to have died down outside. I take a shower also and pull on a t-shirt and shorts.

The damp and dreary atmosphere of the thunderstorm transforms from the mid April morning into a joyful, uplifting, blue sunny July afternoon. The two tiny fawns have grown considerably in size, and one is noticeably larger than the other. The brother had been showing off to his sister a couple of months prior. I chuckle to myself in memory. As I step outside again, I see the song birds teaching their young how to sing and fly high in the treetops. The blooming crimson red tulips and bright yellow daisies and violet snap dragons, the color of purple grapes, have attracted insects that feed off of their sweet nectar. I watch as they fly off when they see me, their wing flaps beating against the brisk wind. Some days I wish I could fly. I run as fast as I can and spread my arms like an airplane, trying to achieve the impossible. After tiring myself out I fall into the grass and roll to my back. I close my eyes because the sun has shifted directly overhead and I seem to have forgotten my sunglasses on the table just inside my house door.

When I open my eyes again, it isn’t so bright anymore. The leaves have changed brilliant colors of orange and red and yellow. The fallen leaves have been raked into towering piles all around me. My dogs crash carelessly through them as they chase a teasing squirrel, so I get up and follow suit, chasing my dogs around the yard. Aaahhh… Fall, my second favorite season. It’s October now, and a pumpkin sits on my porch, a soft musky but sweet small wafting from its core. A crooked smile is carved into the front along with two lopsided triangles as eyes. I’m sure it was supposed to resemble scary. It just makes me laugh. I fall into the grass and sigh contently, closing my eyes.

When I awake, I’m surrounded by a thick blanket of white. As I lift my head, everything that used to have color is now a dull blackish brown and is drooped by the weight of this new foreign snow. My dogs watch me curiously as I struggle to stand up from my almost perfect snow angel. My heavy jacket and snow pants weight me down with what feels like fifty pounds at least. Thankfully, no snow has accumulated under my white fuzzy gloves yet, for I fear it would be almost impossible to get them off with my jacket cuffs velcroed this tightly shut. I am in the middle of making a towering snowman when I see a buck gracefully step out of the bare woods of my back yard. Being only a yearling, it already has an impressive rack on top of his huge head. A small doe, presumably no longer his sister, steps out behind him, trying desperately to follow his hoof prints in the deep snow. I pause to watch them; they pause to watch me. All is silent. No singing birds, no buzzing bees, no rustling leaves. I miss Spring. The buck stomps his front hoof and snorts a small cloud of white into the atmosphere. It disappears almost instantly. After seeing that I don’t mean any harm to the two of them anymore, the couple rummages around the floor of the tree line, eating the frozen apples I tossed out only a few hours before.

I suddenly realize my lips are chapped and my cheeks sting from the cold. I lick my lips for a quick fix and silently call out my dogs that are playing in the snow a few feet away. We trudge through the deep snow, the dogs trying to follow in my spaced out footsteps. I look back and hold back a laugh as I see Jenna, the smaller of my two dogs, jumping from indentation to indentation. Soon we reach the steps leading up to the house and I sigh in relief. After stripping out of my outdoor clothes, a feat all in itself, I change quickly into my favorite worn-but-warm hoodie with thick wool sweats with pink fuzzy slippers. Much better. They feel good on my cold feet. I grab a cup of hot chocolate and curl up in front of the crackling fire. Mmmm…the hot chocolate smells like my favorite butter finger hot chocolate mix. A soft sweet taste soothes my senses as it slides down my parched throat. My eyes close again in hopes of when I open them to be Spring again. I love Spring.

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