Crushing

I wouldn’t want to slight the other seasons, because I find something wonderful in each, but I have areallybig crush on spring. As soon as I toss last year’s calendar, my fingers start itching to flip ahead to March.Spring. Something fresh bounces to mind at the very name. A season filled with promise—flowers budding, birds warbling, runners, walkers, and bikers coming out in force. Life hums again.If I had a time machine, I’d set the dial for 1948, the sunniest spring on record. Oh how I’d l...