Happy Spring!

Hurray, hurray, the first of May,
Outdoor fucking begins today.

Okay, okay, it doesn't anything to do with the vernal equinox, but it's too cold damned in the Midwest for anything but shoveling snow.
 
For me
March is like a black hole.
It sucks
The joy out of my soul.

And why
Do I hate March so much?
It has
My spirit in its clutch.
 
For me
March is like a black hole.
It sucks
The joy out of my soul.

And why
Do I hate March so much?
It has
My spirit in its clutch.
But at Spring's touch,
I shall escape that clutch,
And like a mole,
dig out of the black hole.

:D
 
All the world is in tune on a spring afternoon
When we're poisoning pigeons in the park
Every Sunday you'll see my sweetie and me
As we're poisoning pigeons in the park
When the birds see us coming, they all try to fly-and-hide
But they can't resist popcorn that's coated with cyanide
My pulse will be quickenin' with each drop of strych-a-nin
That we feed to the pigeons in the park, la la la
--T.Lehrer
 
All the world is in tune on a spring afternoon
When we're poisoning pigeons in the park
Every Sunday you'll see my sweetie and me
As we're poisoning pigeons in the park
When the birds see us coming, they all try to fly-and-hide
But they can't resist popcorn that's coated with cyanide
My pulse will be quickenin' with each drop of strych-a-nin
That we feed to the pigeons in the park, la la la
--T.Lehrer

Such a pity we can no longer do this in the UK.
;)
 
I like this time of year, although we still have mounds of snow here. But one thing about the equinox and the week or so before and after: Don't drive East in the early morning or West in the late afternoon, there's a thing called the sun staring you in the face.

And in this part of the country nearly all roads go either East -West or North - South with very few curvy bits or diagonals. Or uppy downy bits either.
 
I've never claimed to be a poet, but can't resist :)

Yet here while I sit, warm in my lair,
cabin fever is building as I see in the air,
tiny snowflakes now falling,
while my pale flesh is calling
for sunlight and warmth to dispel my despair.

The weatherman's truth brings no hope
of snow melt soon revealing a grassy brown slope,
nor of mud season's arrival
bringing greenery's revival,
so for a few more days yet, I will continue to mope.
 
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