spring can fling

I'm not sure what's wrong with me. So many people I know are thrilled with the early thaw, the sunshine, the warm weather, with SPRING.

Not me. I think there may be a gene that went astray somewhere in my code. Well okay, perhaps one of many. But for this post - we'll only focus on the "Yay! Spring!" trait that somehow mutated to "Spring puts me in a bad mood" quirk in me.

I do not like this time of year. I do not like it with a beer.
I do not like it while in bed. I do not like it wearing red.
I tell you very honestly. I do not, do not like the spring.
Why that is, I could not tell. Only that it makes me yell.
Why it is that I can say - spring can fling - I'm in a fray.
I tell you very honestly. I do not, can not like the spring.
I do not like it when I wake. I do not like it for Pete's sake.
I do not like it like you do. I do not like you 'cause you do.
Spring can fling that's all I'll say.
Talk to me again in May.
Maybe then I'll be less a bummer.
Maybe then it'll be closer to summer.

Yeah...

I'm still wearing my long johns since it's not THAT warm and I really really hate all the muck and mud that four boys find this time of year. Warm weather means I have to start (gasp!) shaving my legs again and have to deal with the itchiness that goes along with that. And don't even get me started on spring cleaning - I'd really like to sink my teeth into whoever thought up that wonderful idea. (In case you can't tell - I'm not a happy camper. And I can't even blame it on cabin fever anymore or the lack of sunshine.)

The really weird thing is that I've been this way at least since college. I'm a writing major who mostly did non-fiction stuff and newsletter articles. Spring is the only time of year that I write poetry. Mainly because I need to be a bit in a funk to write a good poem and for some strange reason, Spring does that to me.

Case in point: I got a poem published one year in Bethel's annual competition (can't remember the name of it) that was entitled: Man: My Casus Belli.

Look it up - it will explain a lot.

So, I'm welcome to theories as to why this time of year gets me crabby, short, impatient and restless. Maybe you can figure out why I'd like to give spring a fling and move on to fall.

Oh, and just to demonstrate that I don't write bad poetry like the Dr. Suessism above, I'll try to hunt down those college rants and publish some soon. They're probably all saved on 3x5 discs, so it might be a task to recover... but hey, y'all are worth it. And of course I'd like to prove my point.