Spring is a bit like a middle aged woman getting ready for a big fancy occasion...
First she takes a long, month long shower which takes forever to drain, turns everyone in the entire house into a frizzy disaster, and somehow causes the bread not to rise properly.
Then she applies a good long mud mask to her entire body...The kind of mud which can suck your slippers off if you step out on to the lawn.
Now I realize, her trees have gotten all bumpy and misshapen as buds get larger and larger on their arms and fingers, and threaten to burst, but really...that is a considerable amount of mud.
Then another month of showers seem to be required... to rinse off all the mud...
Then the high winds as she blow dries her hair to perfection... The kind of wind which hides behind buildings, then just as you turn the corner howls mightily raising all the little hairs on ones neck.
She is so busy getting ready, things are strewn on the floor abandoned, the last vestiges of leaves dried and stuck somewhere all winter long. Also discarded in piles, are broken brittle branches, which are so last year...
Underneath all of this, she is moody yet, and can't make up her mind if she is feeling warm and maternal or icy and distant. Better yet, she often is both simultaneously.
By the time she is robed in a gown of leaves and flowers, she is a masterpiece, gorgeous and sweet scented, a vision so beautiful, no one could ever imagine the intense preparation to get such perfection...
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