When I was little, my dad always used to say,
"Spring is sprung. The grass is ris. I wonder where them flowers is..."
It used to make me so happy. It was such poor grammar from someone who always cared about that kind of thing and yet it spoke so perfectly to the way I felt. It was warm(er) out. It was technically spring (according to the calendar), but there weren't yet any flowers. And the blooming flowers were by far my favorite part. They still are. Whenever I go home in Spring (read: May) the budding flowers on the edge of our driveway make me so happy.
When I went to business school I had been living in Los Angeles for 6 years. There isn't really spring in LA. Just "allergy season" and that's a whole lot less fun. The first spring I spent in Philly again was magical. The first few nice days EVERYONE was outside around the park. People were biking. Kids were running through the park. And people were sitting outside sharing a cocktail at the various restaurants and bars around Rittenhouse Square. It was rejuvenating. It was replenishing. It was vibrant and alive. As spring is. There were smiles on people's faces and everyone was friendlier. Happier. Excited. The dictionary definition of spring is this:
to rise, leap, move, or act suddenly and swiftly, as by a sudden dart or thrust forward or outward, or being suddenly released from a coiled or constrained position
That's what happens. Open up. Accept the sun. Breathe the air. And yup - that's why we sneeze.