Spring Thoughts

Spring in New England is a bit like Americans in general. It's kind of all or nothing. One minute, it's perishing cold and the next minute it's 25C and everyone's in shorts. One minute there are bare branches, the next...wait for it...wait for it...and GO! *Bam*, the leaves are out! It's frenetic. Flashy even. Two weeks flat and it's over and you're into the sweltering heat of summer. Like any good American, Spring goes in, it gets the job done, it gets out. Mostly.

Spring in the UK is much more genteel. A steady plodding progression of gradual eruption. Bit like the English then. We might be slow, we might take the long route but we eventually get there. Spring in the UK is considered, maybe even polite. It knocks on the door with a quiet *ahem* and, without even noticing, the general populace are turning up after lunch looking like a bunch of lobsters. Like a good butler, the British Spring does its thing in the background and all you notice is that your Summer is ready for you, sir.

I wonder how much the place where you live affects how you see the world and how you react to it.