"Spring is Nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!'" - Robin Williams
The season we reverently refer to as "spring" presents two very different faces depending on where you are.
I spent fourteen years in Alaska; while there, I learned to despise spring. I mean, yeah, it's when the weather gets warmer. Yippee skippy. It's also when mosquitoes are at their prime, bringing swarms of pesky annoyance to any attempt at bursting outdoors with joy. Also, it's called "breakup" because spring in Alaska is when the ice that rests atop everything starts melting and--well, breaking. While that sounds like a joyous thing, keep in mind that the ice that is thawing as summer approaches has spent the better part of seven or eight months covering such things as fallen leaves (aka compost) and dog/moose/bear poop (aka fertilizer). Put simply, it stinks.
There, I said it. Sorry, Robin Williams. Spring in Alaska is a stinky season.
That, and it doesn't last. I used to make the drive in from Wasilla to Anchorage every day, and true spring, with the leaves budding and the birds playing happily, lasts all of about three and a half hours. It's amazing how quickly you transition from light green sprouty things on the ends of every branch to full-on leaves and great big stalks of devil's club.
Spring in the South is way different. For one thing, it starts earlier, but I bet you already figured that one out (considering Alaska made the news with a snow storm last weekend). But the scents are a lot--well, prettier--too. I walked through the park here by my house today and every step of the way was enhanced by the smell of blooming honeysuckle and wisteria.
Along the entire two and a half miles, I didn't see a single pile of moose poop either. Go figure.
Now, with all the bragging I've done on springtime in the South, just wait a month or so. I'll be complaining about the heat, for sure. Then again, that's another time-honored tradition in the South--"damn, sure is hot" as we go about our business.