Spring reading

The last few mornings have been gorgeous. I revel in the fact that springs is finally here. The grass is a bright green, thick and luxuriant, the new leaves practically glow when the golden morning sun shines through them. The birds sing merrily in the trees as a soft breeze slowly rocks them and the beautiful blue sky guards over it all with only a few white puffy clouds sailing lazily across it.

This time of year always sends me back to my childhood when one of my favorite activities would be to go lay out in the backyard with whatever book I was reading at the time and enjoy the beauty around me as much as I enjoyed the book. My childhood home had a large back yard full of all kinds of blooming flowers and trees. The little grape arbor provided shade when the sun got too hot.

I remember stretching out on the cool grass and reading for a while before my attention turned to the riot of flowers blooming everywhere. I would get lost in watching the bees busily buzzing from flower to flower or listening to the melodies of the birds sitting in the dogwood or cherry trees, trilling away to their heart’s content.

My favorite books to read at that time were mysteries involving young girls around my age. Two that spring to mind are Dumb Like Me, Olivia Potts by Lila Perl and A Horse for XYZ by Louise Moeri. These books were such favorites that I still own copies to this day. They are two of my go-to books when I am feeling that life as a grownup has become impossibly hard and I want to go back in time to a place where the biggest decision I had to make was whether I wanted to wear the green or pink shirt and whether or not I would pass the math test.

I know people who can listen to a song that brings back memories. With me, it’s books. Many books I’ve read are associated with memories whether from who I received the book from or what was going on with my life at the time I read it. Books are physical memories. I can grab a book from the shelf and recall what I was doing, who I was with, or what was happening in my life just by holding it, riffling through the pages, and reading an excerpt or two.

But for some reasons, these memories tied to spring time are stronger, fresher, and more vibrant than book memories from other times of the year. It is almost as if the wind softly whispers to me “remember when” and I feel the need to pull all those old favorites from the shelf and sit outside in the cool morning air, listen to the bees buzz and the birds chirp and reconnect with old friends.

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