Last June, through heroic struggles, I narrowed everything that was wonderful about summer into a list of just 10 things I love.

Last September I easily raked together 10 things I love about autumn.

Last December I labored hard, scrounging 10 reasonably acceptable things about winter (the most difficult of the three tasks).

Since spring has sprung, it’s time for a paean to what is probably my favorite season (which explains my failure to hold myself to 10 things).

10.       Returning birds and bunnies. Our jays and cardinals, chickadees and titmice tough out the winter and help us through those cold, bleak months, and the elegant little juncos down from the north are welcome visitors from December to March. But in spring the bright goldfinches return, swallows dart through the air in the park, and the robin brigades patrol the lawn. Even when we can’t see them, the birds brighten the day with their songs, which reflect much more conviction than the plaintive tunes they make in winter. While our squirrel friends entertain us year-round, spring brings out the cute little bunnies, whose fuzziness induces awwww. The new fawns that appear are cute as well, so cute we can forget that they will eventually try to ravage the garden.

9.         Walking is fun again. It is difficult to walk pleasurably in winter, while one is bundled in heavy coat and feels the warmth ebb from one’s fingers. It is a challenge to push oneself to venture forth repeatedly in the winter, as one knows one should, and walk for health when the days are drear, the air is chill, and the days are short (the latter makes scheduling very difficult, you know). But in spring, the temperature beckons, the feet respond, and the legs unlimber. Walking becomes a joy, and repetition of the activity is an easy sell.

8.         Freshening food. Winter is the time of comfort food: steaming soups, hearty beans, rich stews, and those are all worth savoring, but after months of stick-to-your-ribs goodness, the new season and warmer temperatures make us hunger for lighter fare focused on simpler, fresher flavors: a culinary sonata rather than a concerto, with all the concentrated beauty that more focused form offers.

7.         Spring green. Winter’s browns and grays and blacks give way to an explosion of color. The variety of colors delivered by flowers is breathtaking (see below), but I also love the simple, delicate, infant green of spring leaves on trees and grass on the ground. These greens vibrate with life in a way the plants cannot realize in their summer maturity. This is a case where I’ll take dewy-eyed youth rather than the sadder but wiser tree: there’s innocence and purity of heart in this green, potential and promise.

6.         Shedding clothing. It is difficult to believe that just two or three weeks ago, I had to wear two sweaters to get through the day. Difficult because my mind is blocking that awful memory, out of fear that I will go insane with joy (or fear that, come the fall, I will go all bare bodkin to prevent living through the experience again). Clothes are a necessary evil, but make no mistake: they are evil. The fewer, the better. Spring sends us on the path to nothing but shorts and a t-shirt, which is all that’s really necessary.

5.         The sequence of flowers. From doughty crocuses that triumph over snow to sunny daffodils smiling at the world to stout narcissi poking up their heads to bright tulips inviting hungry deer  to showy azaleas making weeklong rainbows, the succession of flowers that bloom in the spring make me join Ko-Ko and sing “Tra-la!”

4.         Windows open. Even more precious than being able to shed clothes is the joy of the perfect balance of temperature, when the air is warm enough that there’s no need for heat and cool and dry enough that there’s no need for air conditioning. Closed windows make me feel claustrophobic. HVAC systems frustrate me: the heat is never warm enough; air conditioning makes me cold. Spring allows us to let the world into the house instead of closing ourselves to it. Feel the breeze! Smell the flowers!

3.         Baseball begins. A hole is filled, the world is restored. I breathe again.

2.         The flowering trees. They may last only two weeks, but they shine glory on the world. They are like the engravings Doré did for the Paradiso: all shimmering light and magnificence.

1C.      Winter is forgotten. In the rush to embrace spring when it first emerges, we are able to lose the bad memories of winter in hope. As spring deepens and takes hold, as it becomes irrevocable, the painful memories of cold and snow, barrenness and hibernation disappear. ‘Tis a blessing.

1B.      Living mindfully. Spring invites being present in the moment. How can you live in the present in January, when the present is cold and damp, gloomy and dark? Spring, though, clamps onto our hand like a friend dragging us off to see a great new thing. Spring wakens us from our zombie-like trance to make us feel alive again. You can say, “Well, that shows you’re not well developed spiritually. You should be able to embrace the winter as well.” I say I never claimed to be well developed spiritually. I am weak, not a Zen master. Give me the spring to help me along.

1A.      The lengthening days. I crave sunlight. Perhaps it’s my half Swedish blood that needs the sun to avoid Bergmanesque angst; perhaps it’s my half Italian blood that needs the sun to feel at home; perhaps it’s my Detroit child that needs the sun to feel alive after a long, cold winter, whatever the cause, my favorite days are long days, and spring, which by definition leads from day equal to night to that glorious point when day reaches its peak, is one continuous, rolling expansion of sunlight. The day after the summer solstice, I begin feeling betrayed. Spring never betrays me: each day, it gives me more and more sun than the day before.

Words © 2010 AtHome Pilgrim.

All Rights Reserved.