Spring

She comes like a ghost, spring's sprite, nymph, fairy, whatever you wish to call her. She is the earth coming alive after a long slumber. Midnight blue monarchs cling to her gown, she carries lettuce ripe with the scent of deep earth in her hands, her eyes are as blue as the sky. Her youth and beauty cannot be described for she is young and untried; she knows nothing of the wantonness of Summer, the busyness of Autumn, the wiles of Winter.

Spring brings with her the colors of enchantment; pastels, pink, pale blue, gentle green, yellow and apricot.  She glides easily amongst emerald green spinach, white-green lettuces, green asparagus tight heads tipped in deep green or purple. Spring is charming and generous, bringing rain at night and sunlight in the morning. Her desire is to please, whether it be with generous rainfall to further plantings, or the prettiness of blooming forsythia, redbuds, dogwoods, or tiny bluebells at the foot of a budding maple tree.

Spring Sprite is in love with beauty, and why not? She is in love with herself and so by bringing herself joy, she brings joy to mere mortals as well.

Springtime is the time of fairies; fairies flexing their wings and prancing under primroses, of twinkling lights in the dark, when vague wishes can come true. Spring promises hope, the promise of good things to come. If only she could stay with us longer....

What is your definition of spring?