When I was younger, Spring was my favorite season. I paid no mind to the rain or the allergies–I happen to love the rain and I have no allergies to speak of. What mattered most was the transformation of our yard from barren icy wasteland to fairy paradise. I watched as clover, dandelions, and wildflowers popped from the soil. Everyday, I would evaluate my lands. My mother raved about the blooming lilacs and cherry tree. I kept my eyes to the ground, following the ants to the peony bud in the corner of the yard. I watched astounded as they ate the bud’s sugary coating. I rooted for these plants that died and came back each year.