Why is it, in spring, that times seems to go much faster than during any other season? In winter, time just drags, and in summer, one tires of the heat, humidity, and mosquitoes, and keeps checking the calendar. Autumn goes a bit faster than winter and summer, but nowhere near as quickly as spring. It's already the end of April, too late to start the seeds of some plants, too late for the Morton Arboretum plant sale (which I missed). One can almost see the trees leafing out, and the Daffodils and Pulmonaria are budding and blooming in a day. Already we've had a high temperature in the 80s.
I feel like shouting to the skies, Slow down! I need more time to enjoy my favorite season, instead of spending it all working. But that would be pointless, and so I treasure each little of gift of each perfect moment.