Hopes Rings Eternal

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Why do we like spring so much? Most people do, anyway. There will always be some people who are contrary to any idea, just as there will always be some people who are wrong.

Anyway, what’s so great about Spring? (I had to capitalize it at least once so you’ll know I’m not just talking about the springs in your mattress, some of which are poking through and isn’t it about time you did something about that?)

In our minds—at least mine, and I think I can speak for everyone because I’m not listening to anyone else—spring-time is a time of green grass and flowers and pretty things like that. However, in reality—where some of us live when we have to—spring is also a time of rains that lead to mud, frustrating freezes that kill our peach crops, strangely warm days that don’t hit until noon when you’re all dressed up in winter clothes and even the men are wishing for dress shields to keep their perspiration from making a squishing sound every time we move our arms.

Spring is not perfect.

But it holds promise. For those of us who are baseball fans, spring training is the best because it’s the last time of the year that our team is competitive. And even when they lose, we can tell ourselves and anyone else who will listen, “It’s just spring training.” The games don’t matter. Inwardly, though, we’re kind of dreading getting to the point where the games do matter because our pitchers seem to be lobbing in watermelons and our hitters are swatting mosquitoes while trying to field with their eyes closed.

Still, there’s something about seeing the ballplayers trotting out onto the field for the first time after a cold winter that brings warmth to the fan’s soul.

And that’s the real appeal of Spring. (There’s the capital, again, ‘cause I thought it needed emphasis.) I like winter. I wish I could afford to go snow-skiing more often, and there are other things I like about winter, too. I kind of like the longer nights because I can turn off the lights and watch a good movie in a darkened room. I enjoy snuggling up with my wife under a pile of blankets and comforters. I like a good cup of hot chocolate now and then.

After a while, though, I’m ready for warm weather. I’m ready for light that lasts into the evening. I’m ready to go outside without a coat and play catch with my sons without even the soft tosses stinging my hands. And spring (Spring SPRING!) holds the promise of all of that. Spring* may have it’s muddy and windy days, but it also holds the appeal that its worst days won’t be as bad as those miserably hot summer days. So as much as I rejoice at spring’s coming, I often dread its departure. My tolerance for hot is even shorter than my tolerance for cold. When it’s cold, I know how to warm up; but on those hot days when the A/C is overwhelmed and the popcicles are melting, it just seems like you’ll never be cool again.

So, here’s to spring (and Spring)! May the rains come, the flowers bloom, the grass turn green and please, Lord please, let the Astros find a starting pitcher!

*I only capitalized it that time because it was at the beginning of a sentence. Sorry for any confusion.