Something about the recent high of 75, and the humidity settling in the air drew my mind back to warm memories from exactly a year ago.
I think the air holds the same essence of Spring with no regard to location. I'd like to believe that I could smell Spring on any end of the earth-a theory I'm willing to investigate.
First I'd breathe in the rainstorms and sunshine right here. As the sun grazed my shoulders, I would crinkle the spongy greenery beneath my toes. And as the world tilted, I'd cross the globe and observe the sun ushering in exotic flowers and waking brilliant butterflies. My escape from September.
I'd even chase Spring all the way to icy Alaska. It would take patience, but as the snow penetrated deeply, a whole kingdom of green would work its way up. Fields of flora and fauna, nourished through frozen opposition.
Before I knew it, I would be in the middle of it all. On my back, feeling the cushioning grasses, taking in smell of the air, the plants, the sun and the water. But not long before I'm running, slipping, and sliding. Pursuing the breeze, and the bumblebees, for it's a game of tag with Spring.
And as I gulp the crisp air, I am heady and alive. The sky is so light it could lift me up, and so blue it is an ocean; I am swimming beneath.
And as I gulp the crisp air, I am heady and alive. The sky is so light it could lift me up, and so blue it is an ocean; I am swimming beneath.
If only I could always chase Spring.
