Not much Spring around here in Saint Minneapolis.
It may be happening even as I speak, but it is moving by so fast that it's hard to get a good look at it.
Dead branches burst into bud and flowers erupt from the ground with a velocity normally inconceivable to the plant kingdom. The temperature is abruptly in the mid eighties, having all but skipped the friendly fifties and sixties and seventies, and all the trees and the flowers and the dazzling eggy sprongs of the earth are moving forth like a person with the most important appointment of their lives waking up lusciously to glance over and discover that they're supposed to be there in three minutes!
So yeah, Spring's coming on pretty quick here.
It keeps making the thudding booms as it breaks the sound barrier with its appalling (but dazzling) speed.
And I'm not too happy about it. Spring is easily the second best season here. It is a miracle. It is an astonishment of riches. It smells interesting. It is full of birds singing and long missing colors and of an everlastingly held breath finally being let out. And so, I say, it deserves more than a week total to itself.
Summer's five and a half months can spare some.
Winter's five and a half months can spare some.
But Summer and Winter sit there staring at each other saying
"I'm not giving any if (s)he's not giving any!"
And look where we are now!
So this is our puny Spring.
I have managed to grab a tiny handful of pictures of it. I'm lucky they're not blurry with how they are all running by so fast! Try to enjoy them. We may be well into Summer in a few days when I'm out photographing again.