I used to believe there was a spring in Florida. I told myself it was a blink-and-you-miss-it spring that happened overnight while you were sleeping.
But now I think spring in Florida is fantasy. There is winter and then there is a month long push-pull period where winter works itself out and summer grabs hold of the season.
When I stepped outside this morning, winter was gone. There was no spring. There was the blanket of humidity that falls over everything in summer and there was this smell, this earthy smell, different from the winter smell of crushed, decaying pine needles under foot. This was the smell of growth, of the explosion of life hinted at these last few weeks following the warm days and rain, but now here and taken root.
But now I think spring in Florida is fantasy. There is winter and then there is a month long push-pull period where winter works itself out and summer grabs hold of the season.
When I stepped outside this morning, winter was gone. There was no spring. There was the blanket of humidity that falls over everything in summer and there was this smell, this earthy smell, different from the winter smell of crushed, decaying pine needles under foot. This was the smell of growth, of the explosion of life hinted at these last few weeks following the warm days and rain, but now here and taken root.
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