Spring notes are all falling flat. It’s a stupid fucking title, as it is late March and I can hear sleet rattling against my window. The sound always makes me think of pop rocks, which makes me think of my sister-in-law, whom I once convinced to drink a pop rock martini because I wanted to try it but didn’t want to drink it myself. (Strawberry vodka, something else godawful, and pop rocks around the rim. Tasty for one sip; otherwise horrifying. She loved it. I love her.)
Yeah, that’s how my brain is going.
I’m always glad to see spring. There are snowdrops among the snow. If it’s above 50 degrees, my dog wants to go out ten times a day, and I know how he feels. Last week I left him on the porch for an hour. But spring also makes me insane. It is a time of agitation and a time of change, and I can’t tell if that’s my seasonally affected brain or if it true for all.
How do you react to the changing of the seasons?