It’s one of those spring-fever kind of days.

You know the kind with brilliant blue skies full of fluffy white clouds, a warm breeze, birds singing, and the sun shining.

As Robert Louis Stevenson described it:

“And the grass sings in the meadows,
And the flowers smile in the shadows”

The kind of  day that makes it impossible for the kids to settle down and do their school work.

And I can’t seem to settle in and get my housework done.

We all have a restless yearning to feel the warmth of the sun and smell the grass growing.

A. A. Milne described it well:

Spring Morning

Where am I going? I don’t quite know.
Down to the spring where the king-cups grow-
Up the hill where the pine trees blow-
Anywhere, anywhere. I don’t know.

Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
Where am I going? The shadows pass,
Little ones, big ones, over the grass.

If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You’d sail on water as blue as air,
And you’d see me here in the fields and say:
“Doesn’t the sky look blue today?”

Where am I going? The high rook calls:
“It’s awfully fun to be born at all.”
Where am I going? The ring doves coo:
“We do have beautiful things to do.”

If you were a bird and lived on high,
You’d lean on the wind when the wind came by,
You’d say to the wind when it took you away:
“That’s where I wanted to go today!”

Where am I going? I don’t quite know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down to the wood where the bluebells grow –
Anywhere, anywhere. I don’t know.”