All this happy crap about the coming of spring cheeses me off. The popular conception of spring is balmy weather, fluffy bunnies, warm sunshine and fresh flowers and grass underfoot. Spring is the time when we turn to thoughts of luuuurrrve and happy sunny things. What a load of utter crap. I hate spring with the fury of a rudely awakened rattlesnake, and here's why:
Balmy weather brings with it the yearly Exploding of the Oaks and Pines, whereby everyone in my town must go about masked or succumb to the swirling noxious yellow clouds of pollen. When you can go outside at night and actually SEE pollen motes floating through the beams of your home's floodlights, something is very, very wrong.
Fuzzy bunnies? Oh sure, we have them. For about five minutes, and then my cat deposits their headless corpses on our doormat. We keep her in at night--doesn't matter, and no one sleeps, as she was a stray who is very much an outdoor cat and who doesn't mind letting you know it. Buy her a bell--no good. Nothing can stop her single-minded quest to herald spring by mercilessly killing every one of God's creatures in a 3 block radius. I have nursed bluebirds to health in my bathroom, held bunnies as they expired (did you know that fleas leave a dead bunny's body IMMEDIATELY after death? I do! Ask me how!), and attempted to salvage moles, mice, and even hummingbirds. My success rate is unfortunately very low. In addition, I have had the joy of stepping, barefoot, into any number of pieces of ex-wildlife. At least by summertime the survivors are big enough, smart enough, or scarce enough to avoid her wrath.
Flowers? Grass? It is to laugh. I am surrounded by pine trees. Nothing grows here except pine trees. The soil sucks, the flowers wither, and the black widow population just loves hanging out around my deck, porch, flowerbeds and driveway. Oh, and that's not counting the snakes--or at least the snakes that are too big for the cat to eat.
Okay, so what about the other stuff--the luuurrrrve stuff? Puh-leeze. Spring is the time of year where I emerge, Sta-Puff like, from my cocoon of sweatpants and comfort food and find that I can signal passing aircraft by allowing the sun to reflect off of my white, white legs. My complexion always freaks out in spring; I'm pale, untoned, and scruffy. And as for the clothing--the human being does not exist who can pull off a lime green spring sheath dress. What is wrong with bright red or blue for spring? Pale pinks, lavenders and yellows have the added bonus effect of EMPHASIZING my puffy pallor. There is no love here. I scare myself, not to mention the pilots of those low-flying planes who mistook my calves for runway lights.
And then, just as I resign myself to the inevitability of fruitless yard work, spider squishing, wildlife rescuing and resumption of jogging, we have a freaking cold snap. Oh, very funny, spring! Ha. Ha. Joke's on me, I guess. Oh, and on my toddler, who doesn't understand that 40 degrees and rain are a pretty good reason for coming inside. Whee! Cold weather AND tantrums! It doesn't get any better than this!
Spring? I hate you.