It won't last. Summer will come with its humidity and wildfire smoke and air-conditioning bills. But for now, America is soft again. The dogwoods are blooming. The baseballs are flying. And on a thousand front porches, people are sitting quietly, watching the light stretch longer, remembering that the world, for a few weeks, is gentle.
The Pacific Northwest, meanwhile, offers a different kind of spring: damp, green, and fragrant. In Seattle and Portland, the rain becomes a mist. Cherry trees line the University of Washington quad. And for six glorious weeks, the whole region smells like wet cedar and budding rhododendrons. Locals call it "The Great Thaw" of vitamin D. New Englanders are proud skeptics of spring. They have been fooled too many times by "false spring"—that teasing 18°C day in March that melts into a nor'easter by dinner. In Boston, the official arrival of spring is not the equinox. It is Patriots' Day (third Monday in April), when the Boston Marathon runs and the Red Sox play at Fenway before noon. Only then do locals admit winter might be over. spring season in america
There is a moment, usually in late April, when the whole country briefly agrees: the windows are down, the grill is lit, the last frost date has passed. Kids play outside until the streetlights come on. Teenagers sit on tailgates. Someone somewhere is flying a kite. It won't last