COLUMN: Spring Has Sprung

I did one of my favorite things this weekend.

I took my big stupid winter coat and put it on a hanger at the back of my closet. If all goes well, it's staying there for a good long while. 

Back to hell with you, winter. I am officially over you. If Jack Frost shows up again this month, I'll greet him in short sleeves and a light jacket. It's spring.

I'm rapidly coming to the conclusion that these few weeks right now are actually my favorite time of year. It's that perfect sweet spot when temps get warmer but the humidity doesn't, and when you can enjoy the outdoors before the air fills with murder hornets and the ground seeps with creepy-crawlies. This is my magic time.

Once upon a Shane, I used to proudly tell anyone within earshot that winter was my favorite season. That Shane was obviously deranged. I'm not sure what caused me to finally see the err of my ways, but I'm guessing it involved a few factors:

* I started hating winter when I learned to drive. Riding shotgun as a kid in winters when my parents would drive me to school was amazing. One time my mom hit some ice and the car did a full 180 in the middle of the street and I thought it was more exciting than any fairground ride on the planet. I reckon my mom did, too. It's less fun when you're old and responsible and realize that people don't live forever. These days, even if there's only a dusting on the streets, I'm white-knuckling the steering wheel like its the end of days.  

* I started hating winter when I learned you don't get snow days as an adult. When I started working here, I should have told HR that I lived 17.5 miles away at the end of a winding dirt road atop a top river bluff. Instead, I was honest and owned up to living in residential Rock Island. It takes a lot to get snowed in there -- and if you can't get a day off to play in it, what's the point of this whole snow business anyways? 

* I starting hating winter when I bought my house. Owning a home is fun. Owning the driveway and walk-ups? Considerably less fun. I remember being annoyed when the over-worked maintenance guy at my old apartment complex didn't shovel the walks in a timely enough manner to suit my 20-something needs. Today, I'd kill to have that maintenance guy at my beck and call, even if he took his sweet time. 

* I started hating winter when Christmas lost its magic. Inclement weather and freezing temps didn't matter as long as I got FREE STUFF every December. I didn't care what the weather was like outside; I was too busy playing with FREE STUFF! But when you realize your favorite holiday has morphed into a three-month-long ode to consumerism, those roasting chestnuts start to smell a little funky.

* I started hating winter when I realized you can't go to outdoor concerts in January. I miss you, Codfish Hollow. I miss you, EDM festivals. A few more weeks and we will be storming barns and dancefloors with gusto. This will be a summer of music in the air. 

* I started hating winter when "pandemic" because a part of everyone's vocabulary. Being cooped up inside with people for half the year is less fun when everyone may have toxic cooties. Cases are on the decline, and now that we can go outside and not breathe each other's air, maybe we can even manage to keep the Zetacron Epsilon Decepticon Variant or whatever's next at bay.

* I started hating winter when I reached the age where falling down hurts. A lot. I'm prone to at least one classic winter pratfall per year. If there's even a glimmer of ice on the ground, my foot's bound to find it. These days, all it takes is a stiff winter breeze and my ankle snaps like a twig. What can I say? I'm a delicate flower. I thought I'd actually made it a whole winter without falling -- until the other day. You remember, when we were grilling out on Friday, hiding from tornadoes on Saturday, and then getting a surprise inch of snow on Sunday? On Monday morning, I accidentally found a patch of black ice and suddenly took up figure skating for a hobby. The figure I made wasn't pretty.

Take a hike, old man winter. Spring has sprung. If you need me, I'll be outside -- until I see my first bee.