You guys, seriously, spring is my favorite time of the year.

When I was a kid, we used to have wild crocuses in our front yard. They were always the first to come up, sometimes even poking their little green stems up through the last bits of snow. My favorites were the purple ones, I always tried to pick them and make a bouquet for my mom, but if you’ve ever tried picking crocuses before, they die practically as soon as you pluck them. So after a couple tries, I stopped. Much like I stopped trying to freeze snowballs so that in the middle of summer I could have a snowball fight with myself to remind myself how cool winter is.

But that’s another blog, I suppose.

I spent three springs in my first all-on-my-own apartment. It was in an old brick building, circa 1920 or so, and I had a corner unit. I loved that apartment. It was in the Stadium district of Tacoma, which if you’re not familiar with the area, is sort of an old-school apartmentalized section of town with a lot of old Victorian-era houses and old brick buildings. I could walk to the 7-11, the bar, and my favorite Sunday morning breakfast place.

The best thing about this apartment, though, was that there was a line of cherry trees, mature ones, planted right outside my bedroom window.

The windows of this place were the original size, going from a foot below the ceiling to about a foot above the floor, with wide sills just perfect for picture frames, plants, candles, whatever. I used to leave them open all year round, since I lived on the second floor with no balcony, I figured it was pretty safe.

The springtime mornings were the best. Especially the ones that happened on Saturdays, when I would wake up around 11 AM and the sun would be streaming in through the window, warming up the room, and through the windows…

the scent of cherry blossoms.

Nothing better.

That is the one thing I miss the most about that apartment. God knows I could have done without the galley kitchen and the noisy upstairs neighbor and the very fact of apartment living…but the smell of cherry blossoms in the morning was…well, it was home. And it reminded me of life, and how it’s ever-changing and depressing sometimes, but still wondrous.

My house came with a couple surprises that are just starting to show themselves. You may remember last year when someone cruelly murdered my bluebells, leaving them strewn about the driveway like “a bunch of poor, slaughtered Smurfs”. Well, they’re coming back.

Also around the side of the house, I have my irises just coming up.

And this morning? As I was walking in to work? I saw crocuses. In one of the sidewalk planters.

I couldn’t resist, I picked one.

It was dead by the time I got inside. Oh well. I’m still excited for spring.

LFB: It’s In Your Head.

This week’s topic: A commentary on Spring.