The definition of spring is when the sun's plane crosses south of the equator allowing a precise minute to be charted for the equinox, but spring itself seems more a state of mind. Since no two minds are alike, then everyone should be allowed to choose their own definition of when spring arrives. I choose today.
Ballard looked especially beautiful, as though a watercolorist or home stager was one step ahead of me adding touches designed to increase curb appeal. How can there be so many varying shades of pink in cherry blossoms? There were rows of primroses, newly planted in just dug dirt. Magnolia buds fuzzy and ready to burst open like milkweed pods. The red twig dogwoods were flaming brighter than any other day and tiny nubs were at the end of every branch.
Does spring begin on the first day when our world looks beautiful to us again after dark months? Does spring begin on the first day there's enough late afternoon sun to reflect on the storefront windows or cast shadows that are perfect silhouettes? Is it when the Golden Garden turtles sun themselves on logs in the pond for three days in a row? When Jimmy unlocks the doors on produce at Top Banana?