I love April. The signs of spring are all around me.  Daily, the sun creeps higher in the sky.  My morning drive no longer consists of hugging the bumper of the car ahead of me and hoping the driver of said vehicle knows where he is going as the slightly risen sun flashes between buildings and glares through bare branches obscuring the view.  

The sky changes rapidly, the wind carries it along tearing off pieces of clouds and depositing them in portents in the sky. Suddenly the sky becomes an open faucet, drenching with a rain that billows like a grey curtain whose departure is as quick as its arrival.  The sky then smiles in innocent blue, full of promises. No longer is the sun a cold light, but a fire whose warmth can be felt.  A lone bee ventures forth, too early to find food and seeks the baked interior of my car through a window I have opened to catch the freshness of the April breeze.  

The best thing about this April, of course, is that is has arrived in February.  Dusk settles and the temperature hovers at 50 degrees farenheit.  It's a gentle twilight that requires no layers of protection, winter seems to have forgotten to arrive.

I always say that what I like best about New England are the seasons, even the blustery and  bitter days of February.  I think what I like best about this February is that we are having so many seasons in rapid succession.  Before long we are sure to return to winter and learn again the art of dancing over icy parking lots and navigating our cars around slushy corners without fishtailing. In fact, I can feel spring slipping away already in these early morning temperatures.  But for now, I will take April for as long as it lasts.