There is a short ditty,
hardly good enough to be called a poem,
but fun nevertheless.
Death reigns;
With furrowed brows and sad eyes,
All men live under darkened skies.
Cold and lonely the days crawl by;
In depression and doubt we all lie.
Then the wind picks up, the sun breaks out;
Come laughter and joy of which all men shout.
In only days Winter dies,
And in its wake Spring arrives.

Such a flirtation with spring is upon us now. And with it comes an amazing transformation of spirits - spring fever. The effect of the malady varies - a longing for the golf course or, perhaps for a hammock; an urge to clean house or to pour through a seed catalogue, a revived love for the out-of-doors, a revived love for almost everything. In a few short weeks, the world is transformed.

That same spring fe…