It’s spring and we’re silly.
We’re giddy with pink, because it’s sprouting everywhere above us.
Tulip magnolias were curled tight against the cold one day, then unfurled in warm sunshine the next, bringing big, waxy blossoms to our apartment complex.
They arrived just as the cherry blossoms were departing, so the lawns and walks were pretty with pink petals.
Pink was never my color — too girly.
But pink in nature is something else altogether. It’s joy in place.
Seeing all this pink makes me giddy with pleasure for spring, for watching kids on bikes and skateboards, and for planning my next kayak adventure.
Pink speaks to me of promise, of warming days (our nights are still chilly) and all the opportunities of a new season.
I am so giddy with spring, I am scheming to buy a bike. I haven’t owned one in years, because we moved so often it just wasn’t practical.
I’ve been visiting stores with longing, checking out the newest kayaks (portable, packable, $1,500) and all the bicycles a returning rider can imagine. No buying yet — I’m silly with the expectation of spring shopping.
Passed by a store in nearby Jacksonville, and I was delighted to see the staff had caught the same, pink-tinged spring fever: