Spring in Florida

Spring in Florida, Rita tells me, is like every other season except the flowers are different. Driving along the wide boulevards past bougainvillea, tall green palms and wide leafed mangroves, I think about long days of sun with the only change of season being the delicacy of flowers; not the wide, cool winds softening the snow line until drifts become ice and puddles revealing the gray brown skin of the Minnesota spring world.

I think about the gift, placed carefully on my pillow to be seen upon waking, of color spreading every year like a miracle, almost overnight. I think about giving up my long held wish of seeing Spring happen by staying awake at night. I learned recently, some birds migrate at night. Lucky birds seeing below their outstretched wingtips, in the dark night air, the loosening fist of a maple tree leaves, or the reaching trajectory of a white crocus.