Transition

The wind is kicking up outside. The planes are taxiing overhead. It's loud, all of it.

I have always had a fondness for the period between winter and spring, when the bleakness gives way to sudden bursts of color everywhere you look, often before you're even aware that it's time to start paying attention again. It never comes easily; it always feels like a series of false starts and a period of painful labor.

But spring always comes and for a few weeks, before the sweltering Memphis summer sets in, we can just kind of enjoy the existence of life without the constant interruption of annoying weather.