The feeling of an ill-timed or erratic season is very acute to me. Growing up here in the halo of the Southern Appalachians, there is a lot of seasonal flux. Axial flux. All of the vibrance of the subtropics meets the temporal urgency of the further North. Now more than ever, we are on the very edge of that 'Temperate' zone. We're travelling South, all of us. And not just for the Winter. But climate fluctuations have immense seasons as well, measured out in geological time. Imagine a planet with a straight axis and no seasons and no problems. Planet Boring is what I'd call it.
Spring's joys are great, whenever they might come. Katelyn and I went looking for singing frogs on Moccasin bend a few nights ago. Though they were loud enough to force us to yell ten feet apart, the little guys were hard to find. We wandered around with bare feet in swamp mud bothering amphibians in February. Of course we literally stumbled on a wide snapping turtle, toes tapping shell in the murky night. The tiny frog that presented himself to Katelyn didn't get a kiss, but then again, he was fast.