scuttlebutt

I am not a true blue New Englander. I am not proud of the Boston attitude. I don't think Boston is better than all cities South, North and West of Boston (there are no cities East of Boston). We all know that I do not enjoy driving on the crazy New England roads, especially after digging my car out of a mound of New England snow. And I definitely do not think that it is weak to live in a place with milder weather. I don't even use the one big advantage of living around Boston - the Patriots, Celtics, Red Sox and the Bruins. The Patriots I am now luke warm to (after Eli and his men put a stopper on their Super Bowl run and an indifferent season last year - prior to that, I just didn't like them) and the others I barely manage to connect with the right sport. But one thing I am big fan of. I love the New England Spring. Rather, I am foolishly, hopelessly, breathless and wide eyed school girlishly in love with the spring here. It's amazing. A little over a month ago, the roads were still slippery and dangerous, the snow on the sidewalks was muddy and dirty, the wind was biting cold, the trees all looked dead and it seemed like winter would last on for a long long time. Even two weeks ago, most of the trees were still bare and brown is all the eye saw except for the evergreens , that looked dusty and old. And now, here is spring, shamelessly flaunting her wonderful beauty all around. The sky is blue, the sunshine is golden, the rain when it falls is warm, the wind runs through the green grass - already needing to be mowed, the trees are filled with leaves that drown out the brown and flowers in every shade and color are bursting into bloom. Every ordinary house looks like a sweet home and all those roads are now picturesque, winding alleys. Two weeks. It's like spring - but on steroids. Sometimes, on a very cold winter day, or on March days when I am restlessly waiting for a change in weather, I curse myself that I can't conjure up an image of a nice spring day in my head - an image strong enough to make me feel like I am in one such day. But then, as I see the transition again this year, I am glad that I forget some things. This way, I can be filled with awe, year after year over the onset of spring.