If Wikipedia is to be believed, Spring began today at seven minutes after midnight. And, as always, not a moment too soon. Granted, winter seemed not to begin this year until we were well into January. But, as we knew it would, things averaged out with a prolonged spell of fairly brutal weather. The only reason the human race continues to reproduce is that women’s memories are faulty. The only reason New England remains occupied is that men’s memories are faulty, too. But Spring is here!

Spring is here, a-suh-puh-ring is here.
Life is skittles and life is beer.
I think the loveliest time of the year is the spring.
I do, don’t you? ‘Course you do.
But there’s one thing that makes spring complete for me,
And makes every Sunday a treat for me.

All the world seems in tune
On a spring afternoon,
When we’re poisoning pigeons in the park.
Every Sunday you’ll see
My sweetheart and me,
As we poison the pigeons in the park.

The rest of the lyrics of this charming ditty by the incomparable Tom Lehrer, which the alleged editor heard often in his youth — and which may help explain a thing or two — are available here. Now, back to the pages …