It's like that feeling at the end of yoga's savasana where you wiggle your fingers and toes after lying perfectly still and meditating. There's a gentle prickling as blood and sensation moves through your extremities following minutes of utter calm.
Even the air during spring prickles and tingles - who doesn't sneeze their way through at least one cloud of pollen if there are trees in sight? The soil warms and feels rich and receptive under bare toes. We itch to get outside; the sun is out and so we must be outside! Even the evenings are temptations, growing and beckoning as twilight stalls day after day.
Spring is fickle. It gives false promises of warm days followed by bitter cold and violent storms. It teases the crocuses and the daffodils that sprout and bloom so soon. But spring is also alluring with its metaphors of growth and awakening and new beginnings and rebirths.
We desperately hope the groundhog sees no shadow, even if we don't believe in old superstitions. We hope the frost will finally melt, the roads will clear, the trails will reappear fresh and dry and welcoming. We made it though the winter; now is the time to explore.