Spring is a metaphor for renewal, some would even say it’s a cliched metaphor. Literary snobbery aside, there’s nothing like a warm, sunny Spring day, with crocus and daffodils dotting our drab landscape, to make us glad we didn’t set the alarm clock for June.
Growing up, we remember how the big thing every year was to get new dress-up clothes for Easter. No suit or dress ever lasted more than a year, unless it was handed down to the younger kids. The boys would chafe at the buttoned collars and the clip-on ties; the girls would twirl and giggle in their lacy dresses, and Mom and Dad would take pictures of them before church, while everything was freshly pressed and clean.
Often times those pictures would be outside because it was Spring, doggone it, and “we’re all going to go outside and get a picture.” Mom didn’t care that it was colder than it looked, and if Dad had any sort of eye for composition, he managed to get the daffodils in the shot.
So it is those images that live in our memories, and those moments that are conjured up when we see the spring flowers poking up through the mulch. Spring isn’t just a metaphor for renewal, it’s a reminder of family and of the days we loved.
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