It seems that Spring appeared as soon as we set our clocks ahead last Sunday morning. The weather turned from cold to hot with no Spring in between as if it were waiting for the time to change.  All of a sudden people are wearing tank tops, shorts and flip flops instead of heavy parkas, scarves, and Uggs.

Through the years I've witnessed other signs of Spring in places I've lived and visited -- all fresh and beautiful and full of promise:

• Sledgehammers chopping away the months-long accumulation of ice and snow from the sidewalks in Madison, Wisconsin
• Couples walking arm in arm under the greening chestnuts in Paris' Jardin des Tuileries on a brisk and cold Easter Sunday
• Fields and fields of lilacs and tulips in full bloom in Lombard Park, Illinois
• Robins singing as they flit from one bird feeder to the other in my brother's yard in Denver, Colorado

But, even as fleeting as Spring is in my little beach town, I love the yearly show of civia flowers in shades of orange and yellow in my front yard best of all. When the clivia blooms come back I know that Spring is here. And like the rest of Spring where I live, they are gone in a flash.