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It has come to my attention that spring has sprung. So long, winter. Rear your hoary head no more. Spring is here to stay.

I've started walking places now. I was heading to a Happy Pirates show last night and decided that rather than driving, I would prefer to walk the ten or so blocks. It was a pleasant evening and I wanted to enjoy the breeze and the cool air. (I also wanted to enjoy the walk home with Genuine Draft, but we ended up taking a detour to the hospital cafe and drove home with Thirdmango. Ah well.) Part of the reason I wanted to walk had to do with a piece on NPR I was listening to about mass transit and protecting the environment, but I think that most of it had to do with the overwhelming pleasantness of the evening. Winter has definitely left us. If nothing else, you can see it in the trees. Blossoms are slowly peeking out of the skeletal trees lining the streets, adding a rainbow of color to the neighborhood. I was worried that the late snow we had last week was going to kill off the fledgling blossoms, but, almost phoenix-like, they came back and are now flourishing.

I'm wearing my sandals again. I reserve my sandals for the summer, usually, but I can make allowances for the spring. There's just something about the feeling of wind between your toes that makes you feel like a million bucks. It's liberating. It's the same feeling that I have when I wear shorts, but I don't think I plan on subjecting the world to my ivory legs for at least a month or so.

During the spring and summer, when I'm out of school, I make a point of going to the library and checking out dozens of books at a time to make an effort to culture myself. I went to the library for the first time this year yesterday (well, at least the first time this year to check out books; I checked out a couple of Rocky movies a few weeks ago) and picked up four books for myself. There's just something about reading that I adore. I love having a book and time to take for myself. That's part of the mystique of spring for me. I read close to fifty books last summer and felt great. With only four books, I still have a long way to go yet, but I'm off to a good start. Once I get out of classes and other obligations, I'll be able to read even more. It's going to be great. I'm starting with Voltaire's Candide, and it's been hilarious so far. Having never read it before yet talked about it all the time as a historian, I felt a need to take a look at it. I love it. If you haven't read it yet, you really ought to make a point of it.

The one drawback to the new season that I can think of is the overwhelming odor of flowers. A few flowers are nice. I like smelling flowers here and there. It's pleasant. What I don't care for is walking around feeling as though a burly Scotsman is ramming begonias into my nasal cavity. I don't need the overwhelming stench of spring to remind me that winter is over. I could tell, thank you. So long as I stay away from the cavalcade of flowers that parade about on campus, I'm fine. In fact, locked here inside my living room cell, I can hardly tell that it's spring at all. It could still be February, as far as I know. I really ought to get outside and enjoy the day. Maybe I'll take my library books and read in the grass somewhere.

Then again, maybe I'll just take a shower and watch Jeopardy!