No, I Won’t Put a Jacket On

Spring Is the Best Season and You Can’t Tell Me Otherwise

  • Graphic Breea Kobernick

As the weather warms, and the sun sets later and later each day, my mood instantly brightens.

Spring is my favourite time of year, because we finally get to see the sun.

Yeah sure, the sun sometimes shows her face in the winter time, but it’s not nearly as enjoyable because I’m cold and I’m blinded by her rays bouncing off the foot of snow we just got. No, spring is definitely the best season.

The sun is warm and welcoming, but not scorching like in the summer. And the smell of spring, that’s where it’s really at.

Some people say the spring smells a little bit like poop, and yeah, maybe when everything starts to really melt and the grass gets extra puddly, the smell is something akin to dog poop. But right before that happens, the air is crisp, cool, and fresh.

It smells like freedom, and instills in me this feeling of optimism and happiness that I don’t feel at any other point of the year.

Spring is a time for renewal, and boy do I feel renewed.

There’s no better feeling than waking up on a Sunday morning in the springtime and stepping outside to feel the warmth of the sun and the chill of a cool breeze on your face. It’s nice, walking and being able to enjoy it, rather than trying to get to the destination as fast as possible to avoid frostbite. Plus, you get a certain magical kind of sunlight, the kind that comes beaming through the windows of a café as you sip coffee on a productive morning.

I think in order to get the full effect of spring, the chunky layers of winter clothing need to come off—it’s easier to feel the bite of the breeze if you’re slightly underdressed.

Maybe it’s because I grew accustomed to a bitter cold, living in western Canada for the better part of my life. I can never seem to bundle up and let myself be warm outdoors. A light jacket or a hoodie is just fine for me in the springtime, even if it garners the occasional shake of the head from someone’s grandma on the street.

“You’re not cold?” they ask. “You should have a scarf, or wear winter boots,” they say. And I always shake my head, and assure them that I, much like spring, am great, actually.

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