i’m not making up a new season. i’m giving a name to something that already exists: sprummer.

it’s the last two weeks of may and first couple weeks of june, when spring’s already sprung but summer’s not yet summed. everything’s green and chlorophylly, but the weather’s still in the 70s and perfect. the sun stays up late and gets up early, plants are breaking free of the soil, and the last remnants of cold in the earth are gone.

a haiku:

green, warm sprummertime
winter: distant memory
hold tight; it’s fleeting.


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