Spring. Could be a verb. Could be a noun. Could be a part of a mousetrap.
A mean mousetrap.
Or a season. A transition from the dark of winter to the warmth of summer. This is true for those of us currently on the north end of the globe. Down south, the long nights are just beginning. People in, let's say Australia, are preparing for that long winter's nap. In June? What do they do for Christmas? Water the lawn?
All of these mostly rhetorical inquiries can best be answered by science, but I teach in California, specifically in a region that is somewhat impervious to seasons. What we know of Winter is what we watch on television and movies. Snow and sledding and snowman and mittens for throwing snowballs and staying all bundled up in case a rainstorm comes and keeps us inside for recess. Causing me to once again wonder about the strength and character of "kids these days" that they can't withstand a little water because they seem to be made from spun sugar. When I was a boy, I would spend ten of my fifteen minutes of recess getting all bundled up to go outside and brave the elements only to turn right back around after the bell rang and put all those extra clothes in the cloak room for the lunch break.
Not that it occurred to me back then that living in the foothills of Colorado would give me a different set of experiences than those of my counterparts in the Golden State. Not that there aren't foothills and snow to be found here in California. The kids I teach come back from long weekends or vacations with wistful stories about going to see the snow. December, January, February. Those are winter months and the ones where cut snowflakes from construction paper and snowmen with cotton balls.
Until Spring comes and we make umbrellas and rain drops because that's what happens. Unless you're in Australia and you have to dig up all those rust and earth tones to cut up all those Autumn leaves.
But no mousetraps, please.