Spring Zings My Muse by SUSAN REINHARDT

 Spring finally breezed into town like a bride-to-be, readying herself for a round of parties, the trees and flowers fancying up in all their colorful couture.

 It's hard to gaze outside and feel blue, especially when you drive by an old abandoned house, and out of nowhere, a circle of daffodils has decided to bloom in a spot where no one had invited them.

  Even the highways have turned from gray avenues of road rage to glorious streets lined in Bradford Pears, Forsythia and Cherry Tree blossoms, opening up as if to say a better world is coming.

   Spring is about renewal, cleaning garages, planning and eventually planting gardens.

  Winter is my season of gloom, when the bed looks more inviting than the task of getting dressed, putting on make-up, and going outdoors into bleak and cold rainy days.

  Rarely, do I exercise or do anything more than Computer Slugging in winter months.

  There's no excuse anymore. I am awakening early, to the music of birds and barking dogs, the sounds of mowers and mulchers – this grand chorus rehearsing for the months ahead.

   I sit on my deck with a cup of motor-oil strength coffee and listen to the conversations among birds, wondering what could possibly be so important to bring about such chatter.

   Even the crows, the loudest of all the birds in my woods, don’t annoy me as much as they once did. I call them the Rosie O’Donnell of birds because of their obnoxious cacklings.

    While life isn’t Easy Street right now, I'm trying to find pleasure in the smallest moments.

  Who says we can't take these tiny joys and inflate them into huge balloons of happiness? Or maybe contentment, if sheer bliss is stretching it a bit?  

  The trick is laughter or doing something nice for another person. It's finding friends who say the right things and do the outlandish. It's steering clear of whiners and grouches, people who pull us down with their black bricks of negativity.  

  I'm so grateful for my crazy sister who lives in Rich City, Ga. I call it Rich City, because frankly, everyone there is fairly wealthy.

 I can always count on her to lift what's heavy and trim off the weight of worry and angst.

  Last week, fretting my latest book wasn't going to sell, she called in the nick of time telling me she was in a bidding war on the UK version of eBay. Of all the things in this world to buy, she was dying for a possum fur coat. Possum!!! A road kill coat. More on this odd coat Sunday’s column. 

  "I have to have that coat," she said. "No one else could possibly want it more than me."

  She scored the fur, and called as if she'd just given birth to a healthy baby. In fact, I don't recall her being THAT excited over her sweet cherubs' births.

  With a sister like this, and the little snippets of glee around every corner that's decorated for the Spring Ball, it's hard to pout. My new motto is, "Be Happy, No Matter What."

  Susan Reinhardt's work can be viewed at www.susanreinhardt.com