Who doesn’t feel lighter on his feet, now that we’ve exiled our winter clothes till next year? Who doesn’t march to a faster beat in tune with the chirping of the birds? Who doesn’t feel like singing with joy to the arrival of earth’s rebirth? Yes, it’s Spring, and each of us has a unique reason for celebrating the season.

I love all the seasons, but Spring used to be in last place on my list. Now, though, perhaps after a 35-year absence from this climate, I’ve learned to anticipate and appreciate again what Spring brings.

Gone are the grey branches, brown fields, and straw-colored grasses of Winter. Gone are the artic blasts that rocked our house down to its very foundation. Gone are the frigid temperatures that kept us house-bound like Eskimos in a blizzard.

In their stead is the explosion of all things white, pink, purple, green, yellow, red, and blue. Now I can put in my red geraniums, purple coleus, yellow zinnias, pink and white impatiens; I won’t mind getting the rich soil under my fingernails. Now the trees sport green again. A sweet, fragrant breeze from far away places wafts through wide-open windows; billowing curtains sway to and fro. Now, all over the Roanoke Valley, I see redbuds bursting, pink and white dogwoods erupting, and forsythia sprouting.

Spring is as much a spiritual rebirth as an environmental one. I have more energy; I laugh more; I accomplish more; I socialize more- hibernation is over. I think of picnics on the New River, of fly-fishing on the Jackson River, of getting in my car and driving north or south on the Blue Ridge Parkway to explore some place new, of hiking up and down mountain trails, my heart pounding in my chest.

I want to feel the sun on my face and the wind at my back; I want to volunteer my time for a worthy cause; I want to make lemonade from scratch and not worry about how much sugar is too much; I want to make a new quilt entirely by hand; I want to sew a peasant blouse and skirt and go barefoot.

Is there anyone who doesn’t welcome Spring? I think not.