If you happen to run into me these days, well, you will probably run right smack-dab into me. 

Oh, I know it wouldn’t be intentional; you simply can’t help it. Once the “Pardon Me”s and the “I’m so sorrys” were out of the way, you’d do a double-take and exclaim, “Marguerite, I hardly recognized you.”

I get that a lot about this time of year.

No, I haven’t lost some incredible amount of weight. Nor is the reverse true – thankfully – that I’m packing more pounds than ever. Actually, you’d announce, “I can’t put my finger on it, but you do look different somehow.”

And you’d be right.

So why the new look? It’s simple really: It’s spring. And when spring comes, I’m renewed. I’m refreshed. I’m a new person. The transformation is the mettle of muse, the veracity of verse, the legend of literature.

“Spring drew on,” Charlotte Brontë (1816-1855) wrote in her epic Jane Eyre, “… and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.”

See what I mean? You’ll be talking this way, too, once you stand on your porch and take a whiff of that new-mown grass or the delicate smell of lilacs and crabapple trees, just days from blooming. Then, listen to the chirpy chatter of the birds at dusk and immediately begin to wax poetic. When you see those spit-shined baby calves scampering along to keep up with mom and dinner, you’ll have no choice but to smile – a big, broad, toothy one from ear-to-ear.

One of the perks of the longer days of springtime is staying up later. Something about that extra daylight gets me revved up to attack the day – which does seem a bit ironic. Because I get more sleep in the winter, why don’t I look more “perky” in the throes of Cody’s wind, no snow and barren landscapes? 

And in the spring with the longer days and less snooze time, I’m pumped and energized. That’s why you might not recognize me this time of year. I’m the veritable epitome of “perky.”

And it’s all because of spring.

This might be one of those personality things, though. I know that some people adore winter – and they do it on purpose. They call the “cold” invigorating; I call it what it is … cold. Others prefer autumn when nature decides to take a “breather.” For me, dry and brittle aren’t a good look for anyone or anything, even nature. Finally, those summer folks love all that intense sun, heat and activities rife with “full speed ahead.” 

In Wyoming, summer isn’t a time for passivity or resting on one’s laurels; it’s never around here long enough to get used to it! These folks love all that activity and pack it all in with gusto in those precious few days of a Wyoming summer.

“It’s spring fever. That is what the name of it is,” wrote Mark Twain (1835-1910). “And when you’ve got it, you want – oh, you don’t quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!”

That’s it, M.T.! Be watching for me: I’ll be the perky one.

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